Alexander 
Wilson 


POET  -  JN  ATU  R  AL I  ST 


James  SoxjTHALLWiLSON 


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ALEXANDER  WILSON 

POET-NATURALIST 


From  an  oil  painting  by  Peale. 
The  property  of  tlie  American  Philosophical  Society  of  Philadelphia. 


FRONTISPIECE 


ALEXANDER  WILSON 

POET-NATURALIST 

A   STUDY  OF    HIS    LIFE 
WITH  SELECTED  POEMS 


By  JAMES    SOUTHALL  WILSON,  Ph.  D. 

Assistant  Professor  in  the  Department  of  English  and  History 
at  the  College  of  IVilliam  and  Mary 


Wild  Fancy  formed  him  for  fantastic  flight, 
He  loved  the  steep's  high  summit  to  explore, 
To  watch  the  splendor  of  the  orient  bright, 
The  dark  deep  forest,  and  the  sea-beat  shore." 

"  The  Solitary  Tutor. 


New  York  and  Washington 

THE  NEALE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

1906 


Copyright,  1906 
By  JAMES  SOUTHALL  WILSON 


TO  ONE  WHOSE  PRESENCE  GAVE  TO  THE 
PAST,  IMMORTALITY;  THE  MEMORY  OF  WHOM 
MAKES  SWEET  THE  PRESENT,  AND  FROM 
WHOSE  FAITH  THE  FUTURE  HAS  BORROWED 
ITS   HOPE,  THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATED. 


MK^'^mi 


CONTENTS 

Page 
Preface,    9 

Chronoeogy,     13 

Chapter         I — Scotland  in  the  Eighteenth 

Century,   17 

II — Wilson's     Early     Years     in 

Scotland,    39 

III — New  Life  in  a  New  Land,  ...     53 
IV — The  Making  of  an  American,    63 
V — Wilson     and     Contemporary 

Americans,   74 

VI — The  Completion  of  the  Orni- 
thology,         92 

VII — Wilson,  the  Man,  117 

VIII — Wilson's  Literary  Writings,  128 

Bibliography,     151 

Selected  Poems — 

The  American  Blue-bird,   157 

The  Osprey, 159 

The  Invitation 161 

The  Solitary  Tutor, 166 

Watty  and  Meg, 172 


PREFACE 

A  pleasant  task  is  finished ;  a  heavy  burden  has  been 
laid  aside.  These  are  the  conflicting  feelings  that  one 
must  needs  experience  who  has  completed  the  writing 
of  a  book.  Though  there  have  been  no  ties  of  con- 
sanguinity between  the  subject  of  this  monograph  and 
its  writer,  yet  there  has  been  much  to  make  the  work 
of  real  interest,  and  however  tedious  the  labor  has 
sometimes  grown,  the  remembrance  of  the  tireless  en- 
ergy and  self-devotion  of  the  spirit  over  whose  life  I 
was  working  has  still  nerved  me  for  fresh  endeavor. 

The  undertaking  of  this  task  was  suggested  to  me 
by  one  whose  ripe  experience  and  discrimination  was 
to  me  a  sufficient  guarantee  that  the  work  was  worth 
the  while,  and  if  the  limited  public  to  which  such  a 
book  as  this  can  hope  to  appeal  adds  its  approval  to 
his  I  shall  be  satisfied  and  the  labor  shall  have  received 
its  reward. 

The  few  lives  of  Wilson  which  have  preceded  this 
have  been  scarcely  more  than  brief  sketches  written 
as  introductions  to  his  works.  Nor,  with  the  exception 
of  a  desultory  essay  by  Alexander  B.  Grosart,  have 
they  drawn  attention  to  the  pure  literary  work  of  the 
man.  My  acknowledginents  are  due  to  even  the  least 
of  these  biographies,  for  they  have  taught  me,  if 
nothing  else,  to  keep  myself  clear  from  some  of  the 
faults  into  which  they  have  fallen.  To  the  excellent 
"Belfast  Edition"  of  Wilson's  poems  and  to  the  vol- 
umes edited  by  Grosart  I  am  especially  indebted  for 
the  complete  text  of  his  poems  and  for  a  convenient 
arrangement  of  his  correspondence.  Whenever  it  has 
been  possible,  however,  I  have  made  use  of  the  orig- 
inal manuscripts  or  the  first  editions,  which  I  was  able 
to  do  largely  through  the  kindness  of  the  librarians 


lO         ALEXANDER  wii^on:   poet-naturaust 

of  Princeton  University,  the  Library  of  Congress  and 
the  Pennsylvania  Historical  Society,  to  whom  I  take 
this  opportunity  of  expressing  my  obligations. 

To  those  who  shall  take  the  trouble  to  read  this 
biography,  I  feel  that  there  is  no  need  to  make  an  ex- 
cuse for  its  publication.  The  life  of  this  self-educated 
Scotch  weaver,  who  became  the  distinguished  Ameri- 
can scientist,  justifies  the  telling  by  its  interest,  but  the 
significance  of  the  man's  work  gives  to  the  record  of 
the  life  its  real  importance.  He  was  the  first,  as  he  is 
still  among  the  greatest,  of  those  who  have  thought 
the  study  of  our  American  birds  of  enough  importance 
to  make  it  a  life  work,  and  as  a  man  of  letters  he 
has  a  significance  also.  He  stands  with  Freneau  at 
the  very  fountain-head  of  that  branch  of  American 
literature  which  still  forms  so  important  a  part  in  our 
letters,  the  poetry  of  nature.  Between  Wilson  and 
Philip  Freneau,  however,  there  is  this  difference — 
the  son  of  Princeton  represents  the  poets  who  give  us 
impressions  of  nature  while  Wilson  belongs  to  the 
number  of  those  who  simply  paint  nature  as  it  is; 
the  one  is  chiefly  subjective,  the  other,  objective. 

What  this  monograph  attempts  is  to  give  a  fuller 
record  of  the  man's  life  than  has  hitherto  been  written, 
and  a  real  picture  of  the  man  himself;  to  show  the 
conditions  which  made  Wilson  the  kind  of  man  that 
he  was ;  to  secure  for  him  some  consideration  as  a 
man  of  letters — historically  considered;  to  clear  for- 
ever the  fair  name  of  Thomas  Jefferson  from  the 
charges  of  discourtesy  and  carelessness  to  science  which 
the  early  biographers  of  Wilson  brought,  and  by  re- 
printing a  few  of  the  poems  to  give  the  reader  an  op- 
portunity to  secure  a  first-hand  acquaintance  with 
some  of  the  better  of  Wilson's  verses. 

The  study  of  conditions  in  Scotland  during  the 
eighteenth  century  will  be,  perhaps,  as  interesting  to 


PREI^ACE  1 1 

the  students  of  Burns,  Fergusson,  and  Tannahill  as 
to  the  admirers  of  our  poet-naturalist.  It  is  an  in- 
vestigation of  a  time  of  doubt  and  questioning,  of  a 
period  whose  symbol  should  be  an  interrogation  mark. 
Each  of  those  four  poets  struggled  to  solve  the  same 
questions  and  each  attempted  to  do  it  in  a  different 
manner.  Burns,  the  truest  poet  of  them  all,  fell  in 
the  struggle,  bruised  and  broken ;  Fergusson,  a  lesser, 
but  a  no  less  real,  poet,  found  that  his  answer  led  to  a 
mad-house;  Tannahill  chose  the  sickle  of  self-sought 
death  with  which  to  cut  the  Gordian-knot,  but  it  was 
the  feeblest  poet  of  them  all  who  proved  the  strongest 
man.  Alexander  Wilson  found  the  freedom  that  he 
sought  in  a  new  land.  Those  early  Scotch  days,  their 
problem  and  its  answer,  were  vital  factors  in  the  man's 
life. 

The  letters  between  Wilson  and  Jefferson  are  here 
for  the  first  time  printed  in  full  and  I  believe  that  they 
too  will  be  of  interest  to  many  readers  for  other  rea- 
sons than  a  mere  interest  in  Wilson  and  his  life.  No 
admirer  of  Jefferson,  at  least,  will  regret  the  space 
which  has  been  given  to  them. 

In  selecting  the  poems  which  are  reprinted  in  this 
volume,  care  has  been  taken  to  consider  first  the  merits 
of  the  verses  and  second  their  character  as  represent- 
ing the  nature  of  Wilson's  poetical  work.  "The 
American  Blue-bird,"  "The  Osprey,"  "The  Invita- 
tion," and  "The  Solitary  Tutor"  are  examples  of  the 
best  that  their  author  accomplished  in  his  mature 
years,  after  he  had  come  to  America.  "Watty  and 
Meg"  represents  both  the  best  that  he  wrote  on  his 
native  soil  as  well  as  his  most  successful  use  of  the 
Scotch  vernacular.  Even  the  touch  of  coarseness 
which  it  contains,  is  characteristic  of  the  early  period 
of  his  life. 

The  texts  of  "The  Invitation"  and  "The  SoHtarv 


12  AI^EJXANDER  WII^SON  :     POET-NATURAUST 

Tutor"  are  after  the  original  copies  as  they  appeared 
in  Charles  B.  Brown's  Literary  Magazine.  In  the 
cases  of  the  other  poems  the  wording  of  later  editions 
has  been  used. 

So  great  is  my  obligation  to  the  kindness  and  assist- 
ance of  other  people,  that  it  is  difificult  to  do  more  than 
express  my  thanks  to  all  who  have  helped  me,  collec- 
tively. Especial  acknowledgment  is  due,  however,  to 
Professor  George  M.  Harper,  of  Princeton  University, 
4t  whose  suggestion  this  work  was  begun  and  whose 
advice  throughout  its  writing  has  greatly  influenced  its 
present  form. 

I  am  also  indebted  for  help  and  suggestions  to  Pro- 
fessor Paul  van  Dyke  and  Dr.  Charles  W.  Kennedy, 
of  Princeton  University,  to  Mr.  Worthington  C. 
Ford,  of  Washington,  D.  C,  and  to  the  librarians  of 
Princeton  University,  of  the  Norfolk,  Virginia,  Pub- 
lic Library,  of  the  Pennsylvania  Historical  Society, 
and  the  American  Philosophical  Society  of  Philadel- 
phia. 

I  have  reserved  until  the  last  an  acknowledgment 
of  courtesies  which,  perhaps,  I  appreciate  the  most. 
Many  of  the  good  people  of  Paisley,  Scotland,  have 
taken  a  great  interest  in  this  new  life  of  their  fellow- 
townsman  and  have  helped  me  in  a  very  real  way  to 
secure  information  which  it  would  otherwise  have  been 
impossible  for  me  to  obtain.  To  all  such  I  extend 
my  thanks,  but  especially  to  Messrs.  John  Kent  and 
Charles  M.  Stevenson.  It  is  fitting  that  they  who 
would  honor  the  memory  of  our  Scotch-American  poet 
and  ornithologist  should  in  sympathy  "stretch  hands 
across  the  sea." 

Williamsburg,  Virginia,  J.  S.  W. 

October  i,  ipo6. 


CHRONOLOGY 

1766,  July  6 — Birth,  Paisley,  Scotland. 

1776 — Wilson's  mother  died, 

177 Alexander  Wilson,  St.,  marries  again. 

lyyg — Wilson  bound  as  apprentice  to  William  Dun- 
can. 

1 779- 1 782 — Learns  weaving. 

1782 — Apprenticeship  expires. 

i782-'89 — Weaving  and  peddling.  Contributes  to 
Glosgozv  Advertiser. 

1789 — Attempts  to  publish  poems, 

1790 — "Poems,  Humorous,  Satirical  and  Serious;" 
Neilson,  publisher. 

i79i_"Laurel  Disputed."  "Watty  and  Meg." 
"Poems,"  second  edition. 

1 79 1 -'93 — Weaver  and  traveler. 

i793-'94 — Troubles  with  Mr.  Sharp,  a  manufac- 
turer of  Paisley. 

1794 — Sails  for  America  in  the  Szvift  from  Belfast. 

1794,  July  14 — Lands  at  Newcastle.  Works  with 
John  Aiken,  printer,  Philadelphia, 

i794-'95 — Weaving  at  Pennypack  Creek,  Penn., 
and  Sheppardstown,  Va.  Peddling  in 
New  Jersey.  School-teaching  at  Frank- 
fort, Penn. 

1795-1801 — Teacher  at  Milestown,  Penn.  Survey- 
ing. Walks  to  Ovid,  Cayuga  County^ 
N.  Y. 

i8oi-'o2 — Teaches  at  Bloomfield,  N.  J, 

1802 — Accepts  teaching  position  at  Union  School, 
Gray's  Ferry,  near  Philadelphia, 


14  AI.EXANDER  WILSON  :    POE^T — NATURALIST 

1803 — Studies  drawing,  etc.     Plans  his  "Ornithol- 

1804 — First  ornithological  journey,  to  Niagara 
Falls.  Publishes  "The  Invitation,"  "The 
Rural  Walk,"  and  "The  Solitary  Tutor" 
in  The  Literary  Magazine,  Philadelphia. 

1805 — Writes  short  poems  and  studies  birds. 

1806 — Applies  to  Jefferson  for  appointment  on 
Pike's  Expedition.  Resigns  position  at 
Gray's  Ferry  School.  Becomes  assistant 
editor  on  Ree's  Cyclopedia,  published  by 
S.  F.  Bradford,  Philadelphia. 

1807 — Begins  traveling  through  Pennsylvania. 

1808 — First  volume  of  the  "American  Ornithol- 
ogy" published  by  Bradford  and  Inskeep 
(first  two  plates  engraved  by  Wilson's 
own  hands). 
Begins  traveling  North  to  solicit  subscrip- 
tions. 
Meets  Thomas  Payne  at  Greenwich. 

i8o8-'o9 — Travels  through  the  South  near  the  sea 
coast. 

i8o9-'io — ^Journey  through  the  interior  by  way  of 
Pittsburgh  to  Florida. 

1810 — Second  volume,  "American  Ornithology," 

1811 — Third  and  fourth  volumes,  "American  Orni- 
thology." 

18 1 2 — Fifth  and  sixth  volumes,  "American  Orni- 
thology." Last  ornithological  trip,  as  far 
North  as  Maine.  Elected  member  Ameri- 
can Philosophical  Society  of  Philadelphia 
and  of  the  Society  of  Artists  of  the  United 
States. 


CHRONOLOGY  I5 

1813 — Seventh  volume,  "American  Ornithology." 

1813,  Aug.    13    ( ?) — Taken   sick   with   dysentery 

after  taking  cold  from  exposure.    August 
23,   Alexander  Wilson  died  in   Philadel- 
phia.    Buried  in  the  yard  of  the  Swedes' 
Church,  Water  Street,  Philadelphia. 
1814 — Eighth  volume,  "American  Ornithology." 

1 8 14,  May — Ninth   volume,    "American    Ornithol- 

ogy,"  with  a  life  of  Wilson  by   George 
Ord. 
18 1 6 — Alexander  Wilson's  father  died  in  Scotland. 


ALEXANDER  WILSON 

POET-NATURALIST 

CHAPTER  I 

SCOTLAND  IN  THE  EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY 

When  James  Boswell,  in  defending  Scotland  to 
Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  spoke  of  the  country's 
splendid  prospects,  the  Doctor  brought  his  heavy 
fist  down  on  the  table  with  a  thud  which  shook  the 
room  and  thundered  out,  "Sir,  let  me  tell  you,  the 
noblest  prospect  which  a  Scotchman  ever  sees  is  the 
high-road  that  leads  him  to  England."  In  very 
truth  it  must  be  said  that  there  was  not  much  in  the 
appearances  of  things  to  give  the  lie  to  Dr.  John- 
son. The  Scotland  of  the  early  part  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  was  a  bare,  dreary  country.  Its  farm 
lands  were  unenclosed  and  almost  without  growth, 
save  where  flowered  the  heath  and  whin;  its  towns 
were  dirty  and  sewerless ;  even  from  the  streets  of 
such  cities  as  Glasgow  and  Edinburgh  went  up  the 
stench  of  decayed  refuse  which  had  been  thrown 
from  the  windows  above;  the  churches  were  very 
frequently  disorganized  and  factious,  the  schools 
poor,  and  the  morals  of  the  people  loose  and  cor- 
rupt. 

Especially  among  the  lower  classes  in  Scotland, 
morality  was  in  a  deplorable  state.  The  cold,  strict 
religion  became  so  formal  and  forbidding  as  to  be 
a  harmful  rather  than  a  helping  influence,  and  was 
regarded  by  the  younger  people  as  a  thing  to  be 


l8  AIv^XANDE^R  WII^ON:    POET-NATURAUST 

avoided  when  possible  and  endured  when  necessary. 
A  church  service  could  not  be  missed  without  the 
apprehension  of  seeing  the  peeking  faces  of  the  eld- 
ers, and  perhaps  the  minister  also,  at  one's  window, 
and  the  fear  of  enduring  the  penalties  of  such  dis- 
covery. It  was  not  strange  under  these  conditions 
that  religion  with  many  persons  was  a  synonym  for 
much  that  was  disagreeable.  The  rigid  parental 
regulations  which  were  in  vogue  allowed  little  visit- 
ing and  few  gaieties  among  the  youths,  and  then, 
as  will  always  happen  when  youthful  spirits  are  de- 
nied their  innocent  channels  of  amusement,  they 
found  some  forbidden  ways  of  outlet  which  were 
not  always  so  innocent.  "Whistle  an'  I'll  come  to 
you,  my  lad,"  became  the  accepted  order  of  the  day. 
Such  clandestine  meetings,  combined  with  the 
Scotch  law  that  an  open  avowal  of  marriage  is  all 
that  is  necessary  to  make  the  bonds  legal,  naturally 
resulted  in  a  loose  morality,  and  the  troubles  of  poor 
Bobbie  Burns  were  indicative  of  the  conditions  that 
frequently  obtained.  One  has  only  to  read  the  let- 
ters and  journals  of  the  day  to  become  convinced 
of  the  vast  extent  of  this  immorality  both  in  the 
cities  and  in  the  country. 

"The  English,"  said  a  Scotch  lady  to  Capt.  Ed- 
ward Birt,  "often  take  liberties  after  they  are  mar- 
ried and  seldom  before;  whereas  the  Scots  women, 
when  they  make  a  trip,  it  is  while  they  are  single, 
and  very  rarely  afterwards,"*  It  was  customary 
in  most  parts  of  Scotland  to  require  persons  guilty 
of  immoral  conduct  to  do  penance  by  standing  in 

•  "Letters    from    a    Gentleman    in    North    of    Scotland,"    by    Captain 
Edward   Birt,    1759,   I,   p.    123. 


SCOTLAND  IN  THE  EIGHTKKNTH  CENTURY  I9 

sackcloth  at  the  church  door  on  Sundays,  rather 
than  enforce  the  rigid  Scotch  laws.  This  disgrace 
was  often  mitigated  or  even  avoided  by  the  pay- 
ment of  money  to  the  church  treasurer.*  Sometimes 
several  of  a  young  man's  friends  would  stand 
around  him,  and  since  the  public  might  not  know 
which  was  the  guilty  one  in  the  group  the  penance 
was  thus  turned  into  a  frolic.  Birt  informs  us  also 
that,  "When  a  woman  has  undergone  the  penance, 
with  an  appearance  of  repentance  she  has  wiped  off 
the  scandal  among  all  the  Godly."t  In  the  midst 
of  these  conditions  Alexander  Wilson  grew  up,  and 
in  contending  against  them  in  part,  and  sometimes 
in  yielding  to  them,  too,  his  character  was  formed. 
It  is  this  remarkable  character  of  his  that  is  the  ex- 
planation both  of  his  achievements  in  science  and 
of  his  literary  work.  For  this  reason  a  very  care- 
ful study  of  the  era  in  which  he  lived  and  the  people 
who  surrounded  him,  and  of  whom  he  was  one,  is 
necessary  before  we  consider  the  man  himself  and 
what  he  accomplished.  The  loose  customs  of  the 
day,  its  immorality  and  intemperance,  played  a 
great  part  in  the  lives  of  Robert  Fergusson  and 
Burns,  and  the  young  poet  of  Paisley,  Robert  Tan- 
nahill,  also,  and  though  the  habits  of  immorality 
were  more  to  be  noticed  in  Wilson  "in  the  breach 
than  the  observance,"  yet  their  influence  upon  him 
helped  to  make  him  the  man  that  he  was.  Captain 
Topham  was  scandalized  by  the  custom  which  ex- 
isted of  indiscriminate  kissing  between  young  women 

*  "Letters    from    a    Gentleman    in    North    of    Scotland,"    by    Captain 
Edward  Birt,  1759,  I,  p.  234. 
t  Ibid.,  p.    123. 


20  AIvEXANDE:r  WII^ON  :     POETT-NATURALIST 

and  men*  and  Lady  Elliott  of  Minto  declared  that, 
"The  misses  are  the  most  rotten  part  of  the  so- 
ciety."t  Nor  was  it  in  the  least  uncommon  for  the 
best-bred  ladies  to  accompany  young  men  to  the 
dirty  little  oyster  cellars  below  the  street,  where  they 
ate  and  drank  together.t 

It  was  among  the  poorer  classes  that  conditions 
were  worst.  Especially  appalling  are  the  figures 
which  illustrate  the  number  of  child-murders  which 
occurred  all  through  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries.  So  great  was  the  dread  of  the  church 
penance  that  the  worst  crimes  were  committed  to 
avoid  it,  and  in  some  parishes  it  became  necessary 
to  cease  enforcing  these  penances  in  order  that  the 
murder  of  babies  might  be  lessened. §  This  crime 
was  at  its  most  terrible  climax  in  the  latter  half  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  On  one  day,  in  Edinburgh 
alone,  in  the  year  1681,  seven  women  were  executed 
for  destroying  their  offspring;  four  were  hanged 
in  Aberdeen  in  1705  in  a  single  day  and  in  1714 
there  were  executions  on  the  i8th  and  24th  of  June 
and  the  3rd  of  July.||  In  1690  a  law  was  passed, 
which  remained  effective  in  the  following  century, 
making  a  woman  responsible  for  the  death  of  her 
child  even  though  there  were  no  signs  of  violence, 
unless  some  one  was  with  her  at  the  time  of  its 
death.^     Yet  the  crime  continued  so  frequent  that 

*  Topham's  Letters. 

t  Graham's  Social  Life  in  Scotland  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,  II, 
p.   108. 

t  Ibid.,  II,  p.   108. 

8  "Travels  of  Rev.  James  Hall,"  II,  p.  351. 

II  Graham's  "Social  Life  in  Scotland  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  II, 
p.    223. 

11  Ibid.,  II,  p.  223. 


SCOTLAND  IN  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY  21 

the  General  Assembly  found  it  needful  to  require 
the  ministers  to  read  from  the  pulpit  the  law  against 
child-murder.*  So  widespread  was  the  crime  in 
the  earlier  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  that  the 
Reverend  James  Hall  declared  it  to  be  generally  re- 
puted that  the  "Scottish  women  are  the  greatest  in- 
fanticides in  the  world. "f 

It  is  a  significant  fact  that  the  severity  of  the  pun- 
ishment for  immorality  was  less  for  the  lower  orders 
than  for  the  more  enlightened  classes.  An  amus- 
ing story  is  related  of  a  certain  John  Pardie  who 
took  appeal  in  a  case  in  which  he  was  fined  as  a 
gentleman  £ioo  Scots  for  being  guilty  of  immoral- 
ity. The  lords  in  session  tried  the  appeal  and  sus- 
tained his  objection,  reducing  the  fine  to  £i6  Scots. 
They  gave  as  their  very  good  reason  that  "he  had 
not  the  air  or  face  of  a  gentleman."?  So  prevalent 
was  immorality  among  the  poorer  classes  that  its 
opposite  seems  to  have  been  scarcely  expected;  and 
Captain  Birt  says  that  when  a  maid  strayed  from 
the  path  of  rectitude  she  was  received  back  in  the 
family  by  which  she  was  employed  just  as  though 
she  had  shown  no  signs  of  frailty.  Under  such  con- 
ditions it  is  no  cause  for  surprise  that  immorality 
steadily  increased  until  near  the  end  of  the  century. 

In  1763  the  fines  collected  by  the  kirk-treasurers 
for  illegitimate  children  in  Edinburgh  amounted  to 
£154;  for  the  ten  succeeding  years  they  averaged 
about  £190,  while  by  1783  the  amazing  figures  show 

*  Ibid.,  and  "Travels  of  Rev.  James  Hall,"  II. 
t  "Travels  of  Rev.  James  Hall,"  II,  p.  351. 

$  Graham's  "Social  Eife  in  Scotland  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"   II, 
p.  219. 


22  ALE^XANDER  WILSON  :     POET-NATURALIST 

an  increase  of  £600.*  William  Creech,  writing  of 
the  period  about  1783,  declared  that  "every  quarter 
of  the  city  and  suburbs  was  infested  with  multitudes 
of  females  abandoned  to  vice,  and  a  great  many  at 
a  very  early  period  of  life,  before  passion  could  mis- 
lead or  reason  teach  them  right  from  wrong."t 

It  is  a  dark  picture  that  I  have  drawn  of  Scot- 
land's moral  condition,  but  I  believe  none  too  dark, 
and  it  illustrates  better  than  anything  else  can  do 
the  obstacles  which  such  men  as  Burns  and  Fer- 
gusson,  Wilson  and  Tannahill  had  to  contend 
against.  For  the  effects  of  the  conditions  per- 
meated everything  and  everywhere,  even  to  the  tone 
and  subjects  of  the  conversation  of  the  day.  They 
were  times  when  men  called  "a.  spade  a  spade,"  and 
without  the  least  sense  of  impropriety  they  intro- 
duced the  coarse  and  revolting  into  their  conversa- 
tions and  writings.  The  old  "chap-books"  and  the 
poems  of  the  day  show  that  this  fondness  for  the 
vulgar  continued  to  the  very  end  of  the  century; 
being  illustrated  even  in  many  of  the  verses,  written 
before  he  left  Scotland,  by  the  young  Alexander 
Wilson. 

There  was  another  feature  of  Scotch  life  in  that 
day  that  should  not  be  overlooked,  the  extent  of 
drunkenness.  This,  as  we  are  to  see,  was  the  last  of 
the  old  national  vices  to  be  rolled  away  before  the 
waves  of  progress  and  enlightenment  which  were 
beginning  to  sweep  over  Scotland  toward  the  close 
of  the  century.    That  it  was  so  universal  is  the  less 

*  Letters   to    Sir   John    Sinclair    in    "Edinburgh    Fugitive   Pieces^"    by 
William  Creech,  reprinted  1785. 
t  Ibid. 


SCOTLAND  IN  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY  23 

surprising  when  we  learn  how  it  was  not  only 
winl  ed  at,  but  even  encouraged,  by  the  political  au- 
thorities. Among  the  "Culloden  Papers,"  published 
in  181 5,  there  is  a  most  remarkable  letter  written 
by  Duncan  Forbes,  Lord  President  of  the  Court  of 
Sessions  of  Scotland,  on  the  state  of  the  revenue  of 
the  country.  Its  date  is  perhaps  about  1742  and 
was  addressed  to  the  Marquis  of  Tweeddale. 
Forbes  bewails  the  fact  that  the  excise  on  beer,  ale, 
and  spirits  has  fallen  since  1733  from  £40,000  to 
about  one-half  of  this  amount.  He  gives  as  the 
reason  the  increased  consumption  of  tea  and  de- 
clares that  the  promiscuous  custom  of  drinking  it 
must  be  stopped.  He  recounts  how  the  habit  began 
with  more  prominent  households,  gradually  spread- 
ing until  "the  use  of  ale  and  beer  for  mornings  and 
afternoons  was  almost  wholly  laid  aside;  and  the 
Revenue  of  Excise  has  sunk  in  proportion  as  this 
villainous  practice  has  grown."*  As  a  means  of 
compelling  people  to  return  to  stronger  drink  he  ad- 
vises one  of  two  methods :  either  the  forbidding 
of  tea-drinking  by  law  or  else  that  the  tax  on  it  be 
increased  to  prohibitive  figures. 

In  1708  there  were  known  to  have  been  50,800 
gallons  of  whiskey  produced  in  Scotland,  but  fifty 
years  later  the  number  had  increased  to  433,800  on 
which  duty  was  paid.f  When  it  is  remembered  that 
Lord  Forbes,  the  writer  of  the  above  quoted  letter 
was  the  owner  of  the  Ferintosh  stills,  the  largest  in 
Scotland,  and  as  these  stills  paid  no  excise,  we  can 
form  some  idea  of  how  much  the  real  production  ex- 

*  Culloden   Papers,    1815,   p.    191    et   seq. 

t  Graham's  "Social  Eife  in  Scotland  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  II, 
p.  263. 


24  AIvE^XANDER  WII^ON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

ceeded  the  above  figures.  Illicit  stills,  too,  existed  in 
every  glen,  and  "the  illicit  distillery  of  whiskey  was 
never  considered  a  crime,  so  long  as  smugglers  kept 
clear  of  the  officers  of  the  law.  It  was  rather  re- 
garded as  one  of  the  legitimate  industries  of  the 
country."*  This  increase  in  the  production  of 
whiskey  was  also  created  directly  by  the  law- 
makers. 

In  1725  an  impost  of  6d.  began  to  be  enforced  on 
every  bushel  of  malt,  and  though  it  was  later  re- 
duced one  half,  the  popularity  of  the  old  drink, 
"two-penny"  ale,  steadily  decreased  and  that  of 
whiskey  became  greater.  How  the  conditions  be- 
came yet  worse  as  the  century  grew  older  will  be 
presently  shown.  We  turn  now  to  other  conditions 
which  indicate  the  state  of  Scotland  at  the  middle  of 
the  century. 

Profanity  kept  progress  with  the  spread  of 
drunkenness.  It  became  common  even  among 
ladies.  When  some  one  spoke  of  the  "pretender," 
the  old  Lady  Strange  could  not  restrain  herself; 
"Pretender,  forsooth!"  she  cried,  her  eyes  blazing 
scorn  at  the  defamer  of  her  idol,  "Pretender,  for- 
sooth! and  be  dawm'd  to  ye!"t  Numbers  of  such 
stories  might  be  quoted.  There  is  another  of  an 
old  lady  of  distinguished  family  who  when  the  cus- 
toms changed  in  her  latter  years  was  unable  to  ac- 
commodate herself  to  them.  The  way  she  compro- 
mised is  illustrated  by  her  speech  to  her  coachman 
when  he  gave  as  his  excuse  for  stopping  the  horses, 
that  he  had  seen  a  falling  star.     "And  what  hae  ye 

*  "The  History  of  Sterlingshire,"  by  Wm.  Nimmo. 

t  Dennistown's  "L,ife  of   Sir  Robert  Strange,"  II,  p.  213. 


SCOTLAND  IN  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY  25 

to  do  wi'  the  stars,  I  wad  like  to  ken  ?"  she  scolded. 
"Drive  on  this  moment,  and  be  dawmed  to  ye,"  add- 
ing in  a  lower  tone,  according  to  her  wont,  "as  Sir 
John  wad  ha'  said  if  he  had  been  alive,  honest 
man."* 

Among  the  poorer  people  there  were  worse  things 
yet  to  be  seen  and  heard.  The  unquestioning  trust 
in  the  doctrine  that  everything  would  be  as  it  must 
be  in  spite  of  anything  that  might  be  done  led  the 
people  to  neglect  sanitary  conditions  entirely.  Sev- 
eral families  were  frequently  crowded  into  the  same 
house  and  the  most  odious  diseases  ran  riot  un- 
checked. "One  hundred  and  fifty  families,"  Birt 
declared,  "may  live  on  ground  paying  £80  a  year."t 
The  resulting  horror  of  the  conditions  of  these  poor 
people  is  illustrated  by  the  record  of  twenty-one 
persons  having  been  prosecuted  for  uncleanliness  by 
the  Sheriff  of  Paisley  in  the  year  1715.$  In  the 
coal  pits  and  mines  even  more  pitiable  circumstances 
were  to  be  found,  and  an  actual  system  of  white 
slavery  of  the  most  horrible  sort  existed  there  until 
1799.  An  act  of  1775  emancipated  all  who  after 
that  date  might  "begin  to  work  as  colliers  and  salt- 
ers,"§  but  the  rest  were  not  freed  until  the  close  of 
the  century. 

In  the  very  punishments  administered  the  age 
made  evident  its  brutality  and  want  of  culture.  It 
was  common  to  strike  off  a  man's  hands  before 
hanging  him,||  and  the  borough  records  of  Lanark 

*  Stirling  Maxwell's  Miscellaneous  Essays,"  p.   i6o. 

t  Birt's  Letters,  II,  p.  343. 

J  Hector's  "Judicial  Records  of  Renfrewshire,"  p.  80. 

§  Cockburn's  Memorials,  p.   76. 

II  Graham's  "Social  Life,"  II,  p.   225. 


26  AIvIjXANDER  WIIvSON:    POET-NATURAUST 

preserve  the  notices  of  shoe-thieves  who  were  ban- 
ished the  town  on  pain  of  "being  whipped,  burned, 
and  again  banished"  if  they  returned.*  One  of  the 
penahies  exacted  of  an  immoral  woman  was  to 
stand  by  the  market  cross  with  shaven  head  while 
the  hangman  stood  by  her. 

As  late  as  1775  petty  robberies  were  punished  at 
Glasgow  by  escorting  the  culprit  with  "tuck  of 
drums  and  head  bare"  to  the  limits  of  the  city  and 
banishing  him  on  pain  of  imprisonment  and  whip- 
ping if  he  ever  returned  to  the  city.f  On  the  bor- 
ough records  of  Stirling  is  the  following  very  sug- 
gestive entry :  "March,  1722.  For  tow  for  binding 
Catherine  M'Cullock  to  the  tron  2s.  Scots.  For  a 
penknife  for  cutting  off  her  ear  3s.  Scots." 

Not  until  1793$  was  the  custom  of  flogging  pub- 
licly in  the  streets  abolished,  and  there  is  good 
reason  to  believe  that  in  many  of  the  smaller  towns 
it  continued  to  a  much  later  date. 

When  we  have  examined  thus  carefully  into  these 
conditions  of  society  in  a  country  that  was  after- 
ward to  become  so  famed  for  its  enlightenment  and 
learning,  it  is  worth  our  while  to  consider  the  edu- 
cational institutions  of  this  period.  Though  even 
then  in  Scotland  education  was,  perhaps,  more 
widely  disseminated  than  in  most  other  countries 
at  the  same  era,  yet  it  was  for  the  greater  part  of  a 
very  rudimentary  nature. 

Though  Scotch  universities,  indeed,  offered  re- 
markable advantages  to  the  poor  but  ambitious  boy, 

*  Burgh  Records  of  Ivanark. 

t  Graham's  "Social  Life,"  II,  p.  227. 

X  "Glasgow,  Past  and  Present,"  I,  339. 


SCOTM-ND  IN  THE  EJIGHTEEJNTH  CENTtJRY  27 

yet  the  average  youth  at  an  early  age  quitted  his 
grammar-school  by  force  of  necessity  for  the  plow 
or  the  loom.  Nevertheless,  it  was  due  to  these 
grammar-schools  that  the  widespread  ignorance 
which  was  common  among  the  poorer  classes  of  al- 
most every  other  nation  was  not  to  be  noted  in  Scot- 
land. As  has  been  strongly  expressed  by  an  emi- 
nent Scotchman*  of  our  own  day  there  is  no  peas- 
antry in  Scotland,  and  the  all-pervading  influence 
of  the  grammar-schools  is  in  great  part  the  reason 
for  this  fact. 

The  schools  of  the  eighteenth  century,  it  must 
be  remarked,  were  very  different  from  what  they 
are  to-day.  Remarkable  indeed  for  existing  in 
such  numbers  at  all,  they  were  still  only  good  as 
compared  with  the  schools  of  other  countries 
at  the  same  period,  and  not  as  compared  with 
modern  institutions,  and  moreover  they  undoubt- 
edly differed  greatly  among  themselves.  Then, 
too,  when  we  remember  the  intermittent  manner 
in  which  many  of  the  pupils  attended,  we  can 
realize  how  limited  after  all  were  the  educational 
advantages  even  in  Scotland,  of  the  sons  of  the 
class  which  in  other  countries  would  have  formed 
the  peasantry.  All  this  must  be  held  in  memory 
lest  we  underestimate  the  difficulties  which  had 
to  be  overcome  by  the  less  well-to-do  Scotchmen 
of  this  era,  so  many  of  whom  did  gain  an  excellent 
education  in  spite  of  every  hindrance. 

The  condition  of  Scotland  in  material  matters  was 
worse  than  its  moral  state,  and  far  in  arrears  of  its 
educational  attainments.     Since  there  were  no  en- 


*Dr.  Hugh  Black. 


28  AI^E^XANDER  WII^SON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

closures,  ''herds"  had  to  watch  the  flocks  in  order 
that  one  man's  property  should  not  be  injured  by 
another's  or  else  hopelessly  confused  with  it.  The 
unsightly  and  uncomfortable  houses  were  rarely 
shaded  by  trees  or  beautified  by  gardens,  and  in  the 
whole  of  Renfrewshire  there  had  been  no  forest 
since  ancient  days.  Even  the  streets  of  Paisley,  and 
the  country  roads  around  it,  were  but  scantily 
shaded  by  a  few  lone  trees. 

The  agricultural  methods  were  primitive,  the 
crops  few  and  unprofitable.  Up  to  nearly  the 
middle  of  the  century  the  small  supply  of  turnips 
that  were  raised  were  regarded  as  a  great  delicacy 
and  served  at  meals  as  a  dessert.  Even  after  radical 
changes  began  to  be  well  under  way,  and  the  revo- 
lution of  things,  which  later  transformed  all  Scot- 
land, was  being  led  by  a  few  cultured  and  enterpris- 
ing gentlemen,  the  ignorant  and  prejudiced  country 
people  bitterly  resented  every  innovation,  and  under 
the  shadow  of  night  would  demolish  the  new  en- 
closures, and  pull  up  the  young  trees  and  hedges 
that  had  been  planted,  for  fear,  as  they  ingenuously 
declared,  they  might  harbor  birds  that  would  de- 
stroy their  crops. 

With  affairs  in  such  a  condition  as  this  it  required 
glasses  of  a  very  rosy  hue  indeed  to  make  even  a 
Scotchman,  if  he  were  familiar  with  the  more  cul- 
tured society  of  England,  see  things  in  a  very  hope- 
ful light.  No  wonder  then  that  almost  all  English- 
men thought  with  Dr.  Johnson  that  the  high-road  to 
London  was  Scotland's  best  prospect.  Even  then, 
however,  there  were  silent  forces  moving  beneath 
the  surface  of  things  that  were  making  for  a  new 


SCOIXAND  IN  the:  I^IGHTEIJNTH  CEJNTURY  29 

Scotland ;  already  they  were  working-  the  doom  of 
the  provincial  prejudice  and  superstition  which  had 
sucked,  like  vampires,  the  blood  of  progress  from 
the  nation. 

The  real  beginning  of  Scotland's  transformation 
may  be  dated  from  the  Act  of  Union  with  England 
in  1707,  for  that  in  a  very  true  sense  meant  the 
opening  up  of  the  "noblest  prospect,"  the  high-road 
to  England.  Hitherto  the  restrictions  which  Eng- 
land had  put  upon  Scotland's  trade  had  been  greatly 
hampering,  but  now  commerce  with  foreign  nations 
might  be  carried  on  with  comparative  freedom, 
while  still  freer  were  the  possibilities  for  traffic  with 
England  itself.  Nevertheless,  the  beneficial  effects 
of  the  Union  were  slow  in  developing  and  up  to  the 
middle  of  the  century  were  not  noticeable.  The  im- 
mediate result  of  the  Act,  indeed,  seemed  only  a 
fostering  of  bitter  opposition  to  eveiything  English 
in  a  great  many  quarters,  and  to  oppose  British  in- 
novations was  for  a  while  a  noble  form  of  patriot- 
ism. On  the  other  hand  not  a  few  Scotchmen  were 
ready  with  open  minds  to  see  the  ultimate  advan- 
tages which  Scotland  would  reap  from  the  Act  of 
Union.  The  natural  outcome  of  the  opposition  be- 
tween these  parties  was  seen  in  the  bitter  animosi- 
ties that  for  a  while  were  rife,  and,  at  times,  in 
armed  resistance  to  British  rule.  Gradually,  how- 
ever, the  hostile  factions  became  less  bitter,  and  the 
strife  was  practically  ended  in  1745  with  the  last 
rebellion  against  English  law. 

The  Turnpike  Road  Act,  passed  in  175 1,  gave  an 
impetus  to  the  advancement  of  affairs  in  Scotland, 
and  a  true  industrial  revolution  may  be  said  to  date 


30  AIvEXANDE^R  WII<SON  :    POE^T-NATURAUST 

from  the  closing  year  of  the  Seven  Years'  War  in 
Europe,  1763,  for  with  peace  came  the  opportunity 
for  the  ripening  of  the  real  fruits  of  the  Act  of 
Union.  The  introduction  of  plows  from  the  South, 
and  the  publication  of  Kames'  Gentleman  Farmer, 
lyyy,'^  began  a  new  era  in  agriculture.  A  writerf  in 
1782  says,  "The  land  which  used  then  to  let  in  tack, 
at  five,  six  or  seven  shillings  per  acre,  will  set  or  let 
in  tack,  at  twenty  shillings  per  acre  at  present. 
About  that  period,  viz,  1755,  there  was  scarce  a 
farm,  I  knew,  that  had  any  enclosures  about  them, 
except  about  their  gardens,  or  what  gentlemen  kept 
within  their  own  possessions.  *  *  *  gut  from 
the  year  1763  to  the  year  1773,  the  noblemen  and 
gentlemen  raised  a  spirit  of  improvement  upon  their 
estates,  and  at  the  expiration  of  their  tenants'  tacks 
they  raised  their  rents,  some  double,  others  near 
triple  of  the  preceding  rents,  and  bound  their  ten- 
ants to  enclose  the  whole  of  their  farms  with 
hedges  and  ditches,  or  stone  dykes,  as  was  most  con- 
venient for  them;  and  to  plow  their  grounds  so 
many  years,  generally  two,  and  then  let  lie  in  pas- 
turage four  years;  by  which  means  the  ground  is 
always  kept  in  strength."  "Since  the  year  1700," 
the  same  writer  says,  "Scotland  has  made  more  im- 
provement in  agriculture,  mechanics,  literature, 
than  in  any  three  centuries  before." 

The  wonderful  growth  in  shipbuilding,  in  the 
fisheries,  in  manufactories,  and  in  commerce  may 
all  be  traced  most  convincingly,  certainly  in  part  at 

*  Mention  should  also  be  made  of  Donaldson's  "Husbandry  Anatom- 
ized,"  1697. 

t  "The   History  of  the   Shire  of   Renfrew"   by  George   Crawford  and 
William    Semple,   p.    g.      Paisley:     Alex   Weir,    1782. 


SCOTLAND  IN  THE  EIGHTE^E^NTH  CENTURY  3I 

least,  to  the  Act  of  Union.*  The  Act  threw  the  two 
nations  into  closer  contact,  and  the  great  industrial 
revolution  which  was  going  on  in  England  was  thus 
enabled  to  act  in  no  small  degree  upon  Scottish 
affairs.  The  movement  once  started,  conditions 
changed  with  the  most  remarkable  rapidity.  Even 
the  landscape  took  on  a  new  appearance,  due  to  the 
liberal  planting  of  trees  and  building  of  hedges,  and 
in  place  of  the  vast  barren  stretches,  unbroken  save 
by  masses  of  purple  heather  and  yellow  whin,  there 
were  now  great  fields  of  verdant  crops. 

Paisley  has  been  the  birth-place  of  not  a  few  men 
of  note.  Good  old  Christopher  North  and  his  less 
distinguished  brother,  James  Wilson, — a  rare,  sweet 
nature,  by  the  way,  and  no  bad  writer, — were  both 
born  there,  and  the  poet  Robert  Tannahill  was  but 
a  few  years  their  junior,  while  quite  a  school  of  very 
minor  writers,  now  forgotten,  flourished  there 
about  this  same  period.  At  the  close  of  the  previous 
century,  not  only  did  the  town  lack  nearly  all  the 
virtues  that  were  later  to  give  it  the  name  of  "the 
Paradise  of  Scotland,"  but  it  was  also  deep  in  the 
darkest  superstitions  of  the  day.  Even  as  late  as 
the  reign  of  their  most  enlightened  Christian  majes- 
ties, William  and  Mary,  in  1697,  when  the  ministers 
of  Paisley  Presbytery  were  directed  to  settle  certain 
religious  matters,  they  were  too  busy  at  trying  the 
Renfrewshire  witches  to  do  so,  "preferring  to  con- 
tend with  the  devil  in  Paisley  rather  than  with  the 
schismatics  of  Forfar."t  Even  in  1770  misdemean- 
ors were  still  punished  with  revolting  cruelty.     Hec- 

*  See  Mackinnon's  "The  Union  of  England  and  Scotland." 
t  Lee's  "Paisley  Abbey,"  p.   193. 


32  AL,tXAND-&R  WII^ON:     POET-NATURALIST 

tor's  Judicial  Records*  tell  us  o£  a  case,  at  which 
Alexander  Wilson  might,  perhaps,  have  stared  from 
some  window  with  the  wondering  baby-eyes  of  a 
child  of  four,  when  a  woman,  who  was  being  carried 
to  jail  for  stealing  lawn  from  a  bleaching  field,  was 
stripped  to  the  waist  and  flogged  with  a  lash  by  a 
locks-man  through  the  streets  of  Paisley. 

The  secret  of  Paisley's  transformation  from  a 
rude  little  town  to  an  important  city  is  found  in  the 
growth  of  its.  manufacturing  industries,  and  a  great 
deal  of  this  progress  was  due  to  the  energetic  spirit 
of  the  women. t  Just  as  it  was  the  Duchess  of  Gor- 
don who  helped  to  revolutionize  the  agriculture  of 
Scotland  by  introducing  new  implements  of  tillage, 
so  now  it  was  Mrs.  Christian  Shaw  Miller  who  be- 
gan the  improvement  of  the  manufacturing  indus- 
tries of  Paisley.  With  the  other  ladies  of  the  house 
of  Bagarran  she  introduced  in  1725,  under  the  fam- 
ily coat  of  arms,  the  Dutch  process  of  making 
thread.  Later  Mrs.  Henry  Fletcher  of  Salton  went 
into  Holland,  disguised  as  a  man,  with  two  mechan- 
ics, learned  the  linen  process,  and  introduced  this 
also  into  Scotland.  From  so  small  a  beginning  the 
Scotch  industries  grew  apace  and  soon  Paisley  was 
as  full  of  the  noise  of  plying  looms  as  any  town  of 
Holland. 

Meanwhile  the  intellectual  advancement  of  Pais- 
ley, and  indeed  of  all  Scotland,  was  keeping  pace 
with  the  material  development.  As  the  century  wore 
on,  the  condition  of  education  improved  with  tre- 

*  Hector's  "Judicial  Records  of  Renfrewshire,"  p.  254. 

t  See  "Social  Life  in  Scotland  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  by  Henry 
Gray  Graham,  IL  PP-  250-251.  "The  Union  of  England  and  Scotland," 
by  James  Mackinnon;  and  "Social  England,"  Vol.  IV,  by  H.  D.  Traill. 


SCOTLAND  IN  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY  33 

mendous  strides,  until  from  being  merely  somewhat 
in  advance  of  other  countries  by  reason  of  the  num- 
ber of  schools,  the  educational  advantages  of  Scot- 
land became  the  just  subject  of  the  boasting  of 
every  patriotic  Scotchman.  When  Dorothy  Words- 
worth traveled  through  Scotland  with  her  brother 
in  1803,  she  remarked  with  wonder  that  even  among 
the  highland  wilds  the  children  were  fairly  well 
taught.  The  excellent  results  of  this  teaching  is 
bountifully  witnessed  by  the  lives  of  the  scholars 
who  were  trained  under  it  and  afterward  came  to 
America.  Scotland's  debt  to  her  schools,  poor  as 
some  of  them  no  doubt  were,  can  scarcely  be  over- 
estimated, and  to  them  without  question  was  due  in 
large  part  the  greatness  of  the  strides  which  the 
country  was  making  in  the  latter  part  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century. 

The  prosperity  of  Scotland  as  a  nation  at  this 
later  period  is  astonishingly  illustrated  by  compara- 
tive figures.  The  imports  in  1775  were  only  £465,- 
411  as  compared  with  £1,981,630  in  1791.  The  re- 
spective figures  for  the  exports  of  the  same  years 
are  £535,576  and  £1,269,520.  Both  exports  and 
imports  continued  to  grow  at  an  amazing  rate  every 
year  with  the  exception  of  1795,  the  year  after  Wil- 
son left  Scotland,  when  the  former  fell  to  more  than 
£700,000  less  than  they  had  been  for  four  years  pre- 
vious and  the  latter  showed  a  decrease  of  nearly 
£300,000.*  This  was  perhaps  due  to  the  hard 
times  which  were  partly  instrumental  in  driving 
Wilson  to  America.    Wages  increased  and  "the  ma- 

*  Chambers's   Gazetteer  of  Scotland,    1844. 

3 


34  ALEXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

son,  the  weaver,  the  carpenter,  who  could  in  1750 
only  earn  his  6d.  a  day,  in  1790  made  his  is.  or  is. 
2d."*  Expenses,  however,  had  increased  even  more 
rapidly,  so  that  even  then  the  poor  Scotchman  was 
confronted  still  by  hard  and  exacting  conditions. 

In  literature  Scotland  was  now  producing  men 
that  the  world  had  to  reckon  with.  Not  a  few  had 
accepted  the  high-road  to  England  as  their  "noblest 
prospect"  and  merely  gave  to  their  country  the 
brightness  of  their  names.  Of  such  men  were 
Thomson  and  Smollett.  James  Thomson  set  out 
for  England  in  1725  with  his  poem  on  "Winter"  in 
his  pocket,  and  eleven  years  later  Smollett  came  to 
London  by  packhorse  with  a  bag  containing  a  set 
of  surgeon's  lancets  and  "The  Regicide."  Many 
other  men  of  sterling  worth,  like  President  Wither- 
spoon  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  and  later  Alex- 
ander Wilson,  left  their  native  land  for  America ; 
but  nevertheless  quite  a  number  of  literary  men  re- 
mained in  Scotland.  The  school  of  philosophy, 
which  found  strong  representatives  in  David  Hume, 
James  Beattie,  Thomas  Reid,  Dugald  Stewart  and 
such  men,  was  especially  remarkable  as  indicating 
the  intellectual  awakening  of  the  country,  and 
artists  like  the  second  Allen  Ramsay  were  winning 
renown  at  home  and  abroad. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  the  century  literature  had 
found  its  most  representative  types  in  the  authors 
of  the  old  chap-books,  men  of  great  local  reputation. 
Patrick  Walker,  a  sedate  Covenanter  peddler,  was 
the  disseminator  of  what  little  news  or  literature 
there  was  to  find  its  way  over  the  roads  familiar  to 

*  Graham's  "Social  Life,"  II,  p.  261. 


SCOTLAND  IN  THt  IlIGHT^IINTH  CENTURY  35 

his  little  white  pony.  Dugald  Graham,  a  dwarfish 
hunch-back,  strolled  the  country  in  a  fantastic  long 
scarlet  cloak,  blue  breeches  and  cocked  hat.  Vulgar 
and  coarse,  he  too  was  known  everywhere,  and  his 
poems,  such  as  "Lothian  Tom"  and  "Jockey  and 
Maggie's  Courtship,"  won  for  him  the  title  of  the 
"Boccaccio  of  the  byre." 

Under  the  changed  conditions  of  society  quite  an- 
other sort  of  literary  man  was  to  be  produced,  but 
he  was  to  find  a  bitter  conflict  awaiting  him  with 
some  of  the  customs  of  life  and  traits  of  character 
which  his  ancestors  had  passed  on  to  him.  The 
blight  which  of  all  other  things  was  to  most  nearly 
blast  the  opening  bud  of  Scottish  genius  was  in- 
temperance. While  other  social  evils  were  being 
corrected  this  one  grew  yet  stronger. 

Scottish  life  had  been  held  in  check  for  many 
years  by  one  of  the  strictest  of  all  religions.  Church- 
going  had  been  compulsory,  sermons  and  prayers 
long  and  tiresome,  and  even  men's  every-day  af- 
fairs were  the  objects  of  ecclesiastical  surveillance.- 
Petrie*  objected  to  coffee-houses  because  grace  was 
not  said  over  each  cup,  and  the  minister  of  Dunross- 
ness  ascribes  the  death  of  a  man  to  divine  wrath  be- 
cause he  laughed  when  he  was  rebuked  for  taking 
his  "dram"  without  a  blessing.f  Even  at  an  ale- 
house a  long  blessing  must  be  said  over  each  drink. 
It  was  but  natural  that,  in  the  vigorous  era  that  now 
came  in,  a  violent  reaction  should  take  place.  The 
struggle  for  independence  in  America,  where  so 
many    Scotchmen    had    kindred,    and    the   political 

*  "Rules  of  Good  Deportment,"  by  Adam  Petrie,   1720. 
t  Mill's  Diary,  p.  84. 


36  AI^EXANDER  WII^SON:    POET-NATURAUST 

movements  of  the  French,  began  to  affect  the  minds 
of  the  educated  young  Scotchmen.  A  seething  un- 
rest stirred  among  them.  It  began  earHer,  but  it 
was  in  the  nineties  before  it  assumed  such  activity 
that  the  elder  conservatives  became  alarmed.  In 
1792  the  borough  records  of  Peebles  record,  "Wild 
ideas  about  liberty  and  equality,  projected  by  the 
French  Revolution,  having  reached  Peebles,  and  af- 
fected some  young  men,  the  council  declare  their 
horror  of  the  seditious  writings  and  open  efforts  of 
the  turbulent  and  designing  for  the  subversion  of 
our  present,  and  in  favor  of  republican  govern- 
ment."* Even  the  General  Assembly  took  fright 
and  passed  ordinances  against  certain  Sunday- 
schools  where  "ignorant  persons,  notoriously  disaf- 
fected to  the  civil  constitution  of  the  country,"  have 
an  opportunity  to  corrupt  the  youth. t  Social  clubs, 
which  had  been  harmless  enough  at  first,  now  be- 
came centers  of  a  propaganda  for  free  think'ng  and 
free  drinking.  The  life  of  many  of  the  brightest 
young  men  in  Scotland  became  a  mad  whirl  of 
drunkenness  and  debauch.  From  1707  to  1808  the 
population  had  increased  only  about  500,000,  but 
the  increase  in  the  excise  revenue  was  over  £1,760,- 
000  !t  In  Edinburgh  alone  in  1790,  with  a  popula- 
tion of  80,000,  there  were  2,011  licensed  and  un- 
licensed bars,  most  of  which  catered  to  the  trade  of 
the  lower  classes. §  And  in  the  same  city  in 
1778    there    were    eight    licensed    and    four    hun- 

*  Wm.  Chalmers's  "History  of  Peebleshire,"   1864. 
t  Graham's  "Social  Life,"  II,  p.  271. 

+  Chalmers's  "Domestic  Economy  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,"  1812, 
p.  387. 

§  Arnot's  "History  of  Edinburgh,"  p.  335. 


SCOTLAND  IN  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY  37 

dred  illicit  stills  busy  making  whiskey  to  supply 
the  ever-increasing  demands.  Though  "there 
were  drunken  brawls  in  plenty,  with  fatal  re- 
sults; immorality,  which  was  rife,  especially 
among  the  peasantry,"  yet  there  were  compar- 
atively few  "of  the  greater  and  more  danger- 
ous offences,"  says  Graham.*  One  reason  for  this 
was  that  much  of  the  drinking  was  done  in  the  cof- 
fee-houses and  clubs,  where  men  of  all  sorts  congre- 
gated together  and  in  some  ways  exerted  a  re- 
straining influence  upon  one  another.  With  hi- 
larity and  tumult  they  pledged  each  other,  drank  to 
the  ladies,  and  emptied  their  glasses  to  such  senti- 
ments as  "May  the  wind  of  adversity  ne'er  blaw 
open  our  door,"  "To  freedom  all  the  world  over," 
or  in  good  old  Scotch,  "May  waur  ne'er  be  smang 
us."  Thus  the  clubs  took  on  a  different  nature  from 
those  of  the  day  when  the  poet,  Allen  Ramsay, 
joined  and  enjoyed  his  "Easy  Club"  and  kept  his 
health  and  reputation.  The  later  "Hell-fire  Club" 
had  many  of  the  characteristics  which  its  name  im- 
plied. The  "Bachelors'  Club"  to  which  young 
Burns  belonged,  and  the  meetings  which  Wilson 
celebrated  in  poems  like  "The  Group"  and  "Hog- 
menae"  were  of  the  less  harmful  class,  but  even 
Burns's  hardy  constitution  went  down  before  the  late 
hours  and  hard  drinking  of  the  "Crochallan  Club." 
Poor  Robert  Fergusson,  ruined  by  dissipation, 
ended  his  days  before  he  was  twenty-five,  on  the 
straw  of  a  mad-house.  It  was  a  life  full  of  pitfalls 
that  these  poets  led.  Republican,  socialistic  and 
atheistic  ideas  were  hopelessly  confused  around  the 

*  "Social  Life,"  II,  p.  234. 


38  Ar^EXANDE:^  WILSON  :     POET-NATURAUST 

table  in  the  tavern  of  the  suave  old  host,  John 
Dowie,  from  which  the  revellers  sometimes  with- 
drew to  find  relaxation  in  the  music  of  Handel  or 
Corelli  at  St.  Cecelia's  Music  Hall  in  Edinburgh. 
Their  tempestuous  lives  often  came  to  tragic  ends. 
Robert  Tannahill,  the  gifted  young  poet  of  Paisley, 
escaped  a  fate  like  that  of  Fergusson  by  taking  his 
own  life,  and  perhaps  even  Wilson  was  saved  by  his 
timely  emigration. 

The  day  was  one  of  fierce  agitation  along  all 
lines,  but  it  justified  itself  by  producing  such  men  as 
Adam  Smith  and  Robert  Burns ;  and  England — the 
England  which  had  shared  in  Dr.  Johnson's  opin- 
ion of  Scotch  affairs — learned  at  last  that  many 
good  things  could  come  out  of  Scotland. 

In  such  a  period  of  social,  industrial,  political,  re- 
ligious and  philosophical  revolution  as  this,  Alex- 
ander Wilson  was  born  and  lived  his  early  life.  In 
him  we  have  a  representative  of  the  time  and  na- 
tion in  which  his  being  and  character  took  form. 
Could  we  indeed  "pluck  out  the  stops"  and  learn 
and  understand  this  man  we  should  know  much  of 
the  potentiality  of  the  Scotland  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Nor  is  it  possible  that  we  can  understand 
the  sources  of  the  strength  of  his  later  nature  until 
we  have  learned  something  of  the  difficulties  which 
he  overcame,  the  temptations  which  he  resisted,  in 
those  early  years  in  Scotland. 


CHAPTER  II 
Wilson's  early  years  in  Scotland 

Alexander  Wilson  was  born  on  the  6th  of  July, 
1766.  His  birth-town,  Paisley,  in  the  shire  of  Ren- 
frew, Scotland,  is  about  seven  miles  to  the  west  of 
Glasgow.  With  the  noise  of  its  many  looms  and 
the  rush  of  its  bustling  trade  there  is  little  about 
Paisley  that  is  poetic;  even  the  White  Cart,  of 
which  Burns  sang  as  "rinning,  rowin'  to  the  sea," 
is  no  longer  white;  soiled  and  defiled  by  the  grimy 
hand  of  commerce,  it  flows  in  a  dark  and  turbid 
stream.  A  century  and  a  half  ago  it  was  perhaps 
very  little  more  poetic  than  it  is  to-day.  Already 
the  looms  were  plying;  already  the  spirit  of  com- 
mercialism had  taken  Paisley  in  its  grasp.  Nor  was 
the  lack  of  what  is  physically  romantic  made  up  for 
by  beautiful  old  traditions  or  quaint  stories  of  the 
past,  with  which  so  many  parts  of  Scotland  teem. 
The  royal  name  of  Stuart,  it  is  true,  was  anciently 
linked  with  the  annals  of  Paisley,  and  an  air  of  ro- 
mance and  mystery  still  clung  about  the  picturesque 
walls  of  the  antique  abbey,  but,  to  a  poet's  eye. 
Paisley  of  the  eighteenth  century  must  have  been, 
comparatively  speaking,  as  matter  of  fact  and  as 
briskly  businesslike  as  it  is  to-day. 

That  part  of  Paisley  in  which  Wilson  was  born, 
known  as  the  Seedhills,  was,  save  for  the  white 
gulls  that  sported  above  the  Cart,  equally  unro- 
mantic;  as  late  as  1782  it  is  recorded  as  consisting 
of  only  forty-five  houses,  in  which  there  were  eighty 


40  ALEXANDE^R  WII.SON  :    POEn^-NATURAUST 

families  and  sixty-six  looms ;  not  an  unusual  condi- 
tion of  affairs  when  compared  with  other  parts  of 
the  town. 

The  Wilsons  were  originally  a  Lochwinnoch 
family  and  were  devoted  Covenanters,  but  in  the 
time  of  Alexander's  great-grandfather  they  were 
driven  by  the  persecutions  of  the  day  from  Renfrew- 
shire and  found  a  refuge  in  Campbeltown  in  the 
southern  part  of  Argyleshire. 

Alexander  Wilson,  Sr.,  the  father  of  the  orni- 
thologist, seems  to  have  returned  early  in  his  life 
to  his  family's  native  shire,  where  he  settled  in 
Paisley  and  took  up  the  occupation  of  weaving.  He 
was  born  in  1728,  and  was  a  man  of  hardy,  robust 
type,  stern  and  taciturn  perhaps,  but  a  true  Scot. 
In  addition  to  his  legitimate  trade  of  weaving,  the 
elder  Wilson  undoubtedly  carried  on  a  distillery  of 
his  own,  which  did  not  come  within  the  sanction  of 
the  law.  This  distillery,  we  are  told,  was  situated 
in  his  garden,  and  in  order  to  work  it  successfully, 
more  or  less  smuggling  had  to  be  carried  on. 

The  biographers  of  the  distinguished  son  have 
been  wont  to  slur  over,  or  attempt  to  throw  doubts 
upon,  this  fact  in  the  life  of  the  father,  or  else  to 
hold  up  their  hands  in  pious  surprise,  for  otherwise 
he  led  a  worthy  and  most  godly  life.  But  a  little 
study  of  this  interesting  period  in  Scotland  will 
quite  do  away  with  the  necessity  of  any  confusion 
on  this  point  or  with  any  appearance  of  hypocrisy 
on  Wilson's  part.  The  old  man  himself  would  have 
been  the  last  to  blush  from  any  sense  of  wrong- 
doing. Smuggling  and  the  illicit  distilling  of 
whiskey  were  at  this  time  considered  very  honorable 


Wilson's  early  years  in  Scotland  41 

occupations  in  Scotland.  There  had  grown  up 
hearty  hatred  for  the  laws,  which  followed  the  Act 
of  Union,  on  these  matters,  and  with  the  proverbial 
Scottish  independence  they  showed  their  contempt 
for  them  by  systematically  breaking  them.  It  was 
almost  a  patriotic  duty.  Says  a  close  student  of 
Scotch  conditions  in  the  eighteenth  century,  "Gen- 
tlemen holding  high  position  in  the  county  and  of- 
fices of  justices  of  the  peace  joined  the  smugglers 
in  their  ventures  of  running  in  the  cargoes,  while 
excisemen  were  hopelessly  baffled."*  Even  the 
clergy  covertly  winked  at  this  traffic  and  not  infre- 
quently openly  approved  of  it.  "Illicit  distillers  were 
as  much  respected  as  smugglers  and  equally  uncon- 
scious of  any  heinousness."t  So  Wilson  lost  none 
of  his  fellow-townsmen's  respect  but  he  was  held  as 
one  of  the  worthiest  and  wealthiest  of  his  class, 
when  he  became  sufficiently  thrifty  to  possess  sev- 
eral looms  and  employ  journeymen.  Among  his 
associates  Wilson,  Sr.,  was  regarded  as  "a  man  of 
sober  and  industrious  habits,  of  strict  honesty  and 
superior  intelligence,"  and  from  America  his  son, 
after  he  had  become  a  mature  man,  wrote  as  counsel 
for  his  brother  David  that  he  should  "take  his  fa- 
ther's advice  in  every  difficulty.  If  he  does  I  can 
tell  him  he  will  never  repent  it." 

Alexander  Wilson,  Sr.,  married  first  Mary  Mc- 
Nab,  whose  family  moved  during  her  own  girlhood 
from  the  "Row"  in  Dumbarton  to  Paisley.  All  the 
little  that  we  know  of  her  is  to  her  credit,  and  she 
would  seem  to  belong  to  that  long  list  of  noble 

*  "Social  Life  in  Scotland  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  II,  pp.  261-2. 
t  Ibid. 


42  AIvEXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

mothers  who  planted  the  first  seeds  of  greatness  in 
the  characters  of  their  sons.  She  was  a  good-look- 
ing, intelligent  woman,  and  was  truly  Scotch  in  the 
depth  and  fervor  of  her  religion.  For  her  son  she 
had  but  one  dream, — that  dream  which  is  shattered 
for  many  a  fond  mother, — that  he  should  become 
as  religious  as  herself,  and — to  quote  his  owii 
words — 

"She  talked  with  tears  of  that  enrapturing  sight, 

When  clad  in  sable  gown,  with  solemn  air, 

The  walls  of  God's  own  house  should  echo  back  his  prayer."* 

When  Alexander  was  but  a  lad  of  ten  the  frail 
frame  of  his  mother  gave  way  and  he  was  left  but 
a  dim  memory  of  her  to  carry  with  him  through 
his  after  years.  Though  young  Alexander  had  been 
the  fifth  of  six  children,  yet  they  had  all  died  in 
their  infancy  except  two  sisters  and  himself.  At 
the  mother's  death  the  three  children  were  all  young 
and  it  was  not  long  before  the  father  married  again, 
this  time  a  widow,  Catherine  Urie,  nee  Brown,  who, 
like  himself,  had  a  family  of  "young  hopefuls." 
That  the  second  wife  was  a  woman  of  pleasant 
character  we  may  infer  from  the  kind  manner  in 
which  her  step-son  ever  spoke  of  her  in  his  letters. 
Under  the  stress  of  his  increasing  family  the  pe- 
cuniary condition  of  the  elder  Wilson  appears  to 
have  become  less  prosperous.  Soon  after  his  sec- 
ond marriage  he  is  said  to  have  moved  to  the  Tower 
of  Auchenbothie,  but  how  soon  we  are  unable  to 
say.  In  1782,  when  William  Semple  published  his 
continuation   of    George    Crawford's    "History   of 

*  Wilson's   "Solitary  Tutor." 


Wilson's  early  years  in  Scotland  43 

Renfrewshire,"  there  are  two  Alexander  Wilsons 
entered  as  subscribers:  "Alex.  Wilson,  weaver, 
Long-street,  Paisley,"  and  "Alex.  Wilson,  weaver, 
New-Town,  Ralston,  Nielston."  Whether  these 
were  father  and  son,  or  which  was  which,  is  difficult 
to  say ;  or  more  likely  still  one  of  them  was  another 
Alex.  Wilson  of  Glanderston  in  Nielston,  whose 
sister,  according  to  Scrapie's  History,  married  a 
local  worthy  and  landed  proprietor  named  Robert 
Sheddon,  somewhere  about  the  year  1755.  How- 
ever this  may  be,  the  elder  Wilson,  after  an  unsuc- 
cessful attempt  at  farming,  returned  to  Paisley  in 
1790  and  lived  in  a  house  in  the  Seedhills  known 
as  the  "Douket."  Here  he  remained  until  his  death 
three  years  after  that  of  his  son,  on  the  5th  of  June, 
1816. 

There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  childhood 
of  Wilson  was  anything  but  a  happy  one.  His  home 
faced  on  the  river  Cart  which  was  the  favorite  lo- 
cality for  the  youngsters  of  the  town  to  bathe,  and 
the  somewhat  barren  fields  were  not  too  bare  to 
furnish  a  pleasure  ground  for  an  imaginative  child, 
for  even  then  he  tells  us, 

"When  gath'ring  clouds  the  vaults  of  heaven  o'erspread, 
And  opening  streams  of  livid  lightning  flew; 
From  some  o'erhanging  cliff,  the  uproar  dread, 
Transfix'd  in  rapt'rous  wonder,  he  would  view 
When  the  red  torrent,  big  and  bigger  grew." 

Of  his  school  days  we  know  little.  From  all  the 
information  that  we  can  gather  there  was  but  one 
regular  school  in  Paisley  at  this  date,  the  "Latin- 
Grammar-school"  which  Wilson  attended.  As  late 
as   1782   Semple  mentions  but  two  other  schools. 


44  AI^EXANDER  WII.SON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

founded  respectively  in  1780  and  1781,  but  the  pa- 
triotic Semple  adds  that  in  his  day  "there  is  scarce 
a  boy  but  what  is  taught  reading,  writing,  and  arith- 
metic and  a  part  of  church  music."  This,  with  a 
Httle  Latin,  we  may  well  believe  was  all  that  Wil- 
son got,  or  even  more,  for  we  find  him  having  great 
trouble  mastering  the  rudiments  of  arithmetic  after 
he  was  a  man. 

Those  old  Scotch  schools  would  make  an  inter- 
esting study.  They  opened  at  six  in  the  morning 
and  closed  at  six  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  books 
used  were,  like  "Ruddiman's  Rudiments"  in  Latin, 
continued  in  use  decade  after  decade.  The  masters 
were  miserably  paid  and  eked  out  their  living  in  any 
way  that  they  could.  For  specially  good  services  it 
was  sometimes  the  case  that  the  town-council  con- 
ferred the  honor  upon  one  of  them  of  presenting 
him  with  a  hat.  An  interesting  illustration  of  the 
manner  in  which  they  augmented  their  small  sal- 
aries is  seen  in  the  account  that  we  have  of  the  cus- 
toms which  existed  at  Dumfries  and  other  places 
even  up  to  the  close  of  the  century,  and  which  were 
most  fruitful  sources  of  income  to  the  teachers — 
cock-fighting  and  cock-throwing.  "Every  boy  who 
could  afford  it  brought  a  fighting  cock  to  school, 
and  on  payment  of  twelve  pennies  Scots  to  the  mas- 
ter, the  cocks  were  pitted  against  each  other  in  the 
school-room,  in  the  presence  of  the  gentry  of  the 
neighborhood.  Then  the  cocks  slain  in  mortal  com- 
bat became  the  teacher's  property;  while  those 
cocks  which  would  not  fight,  called  'fugies,'  were 
fixed  to  a  stake  in  the  yard  and  killed  one  after  an- 


Wilson's  early  years  in  Scotland  45 

other  at  cock-throwing,  at  one  bodle  for  each 
shot."* 

It  was  under  such  conditions  as  these  that  Scot- 
land's youth  was  taught,  and  about  the  most  that 
Wilson  acquired  was  the  ability  to  satisfy  his  nat- 
ural love  for  reading,  and  to  write  the  clear,  legible 
hand  that  may  still  be  seen  on  the  indenture  of  his 
apprenticeship  in  the  Paisley  Museum.  In  Sir  Wil- 
liam Jardine's  "Memoirs  of  Wilson"  we  are  told 
that  he  was  also  put  under  a  "Mr.  Barlass,  then  a 
student  of  divinity,"  to  study  theology,  but  if  this 
was  the  case  it  probably  lasted  for  but  a  short  time, 
for  in  his  thirteenth  year  he  was  apprenticed  to  Wil- 
liam Duncan,  the  husband  of  his  sister  Mary,  to 
learn  the  trade  of  a  weaver.  There  is  good  reason 
to  credit  the  report  that  at  an  earlier  date  than  this 
he  had  served  for  a  short  while  as  a  "herd"  on  a 
farm,  not  far  distant  from  Paisley,  known  as  Ba- 
kerfield.  By  the  terms  of  his  indenture  he  was  to 
be  taught  the  art  of  weaving  and  should  receive  his 
"Bed,  Board,  Washing  and  Clothing,  suitable  to  his 
station."  The  time  of  this  paper  is  July  31,  1779, 
and  under  date  of  August,  1782,  Wilson  himself 
has  written  on  the  paper  the  earliest  of  his  attempts 
at  verse  which  we  have, 

"Be't  kent  to  a'  the  world  in  rliime, 
That  wi'  right  mickle  wark  and  toil, 
For  three  long  j-ears  I've  ser't  my  time, 
Whiles  feasted  wi'  the  hazel  oil." 

The  "three  long  years"  were  ended,  but  bread  must 
be  earned,  and  in  spite  of  the  irksomeness  of  it  to 
the  restless  and  somewhat  fragile  boy,  he  went  on 

•  "Social  Life  in  Scotland  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  II,  p.   164. 


46  ALEXANDER  WIESON  :     POET-NATURALIST 

with  his  weaving,  now  at  Paisley,  now  Lochwin- 
noch,  living-  sometimes  with  his  father  and  some- 
times with  his  sister's  husband  in  Queensferry. 
However  much  he  hated  the  occupation  of  a  weaver 
— a  hate  which  he  gave  expression  to  from  time  to 
time  throughout  his  whole  life  in  his  poems  and  let- 
ters— yet  he  found  solace  in  long  country  walks,  at 
the  tavern,  and  in  reading  his  favorite  books.  In 
the  depths  of  the  Castle-Semple  forest  he  found  a 
retreat  where  he  could  enjoy  the  poems  of  Young, 
Goldsmith,  Pope  and  Shakespeare,  or  Ramsay,  Fer- 
gusson,  and  Burns,  who  was  then  just  emerging 
into  fame. 

At  last  he  wearied  of  his  dull  life  and  started  with 
his  former  master,  William  Duncan,  from  Queens- 
ferry  to  travel  through  the  eastern  portions  of  Scot- 
land as  a  peddler.  In  April,  1788,  he  writes  to  his 
old  friend  David  Brodie  of  his  travels ;  he  has  met 
and  spent  a  glorious  night  with  three  brother  poets, 
James  Kennedy,  Ebenezer  Picken,  and  "the  immor- 
tal author"  of  that  well-known  ballad,  "The  Battle 
of  Bannockburn."  "From  the  Ocean,"  etc."*  The 
enthusiasm  which  Wilson  felt  was  intense.  "Blessed 
meeting,"  he  writes,  "never  did  I  spend  such  a  night 
in  all  my  life.  Oh,  I  was  all  fire!  oh,  I  was  all 
spirit.  *  *  *  I  have  now  a  more  deep  regard 
for  the  muse  than  ever."  With  a  nature  like  his, 
little  was  needed  to  raise  him  to  the  heights  of  ex- 
altation or  cast  him  to  the  "slough  of  despond." 

Through  the  years  of  1789-90  Wilson  kept  up 
his  wanderings,   a   sort  of  poetical-peddling  tour, 

•Was   this   Burns?     Burns   gives    a    much    later    date    to   the    compo- 
sition of  his  "Bannockburn." 


Wilson's  early  years  in  Scotland  47 

carrying  on  his  back  a  packfull  of  ladies'  goods 
and  in  his  hand  a  versified  ''proposal"  for  the  pub- 
lication of  his  poems.  He  was  equally  ready  to  turn 
aside  for  a  prospective  purchaser  or  to  see  an  old 
ruin  of  historic  interest,  or  some  majestic  sight  of 
nature.  His  letters  to  his  friend  David  Brodie,  who 
had  worked  beside  him  at  the  loom,  breathe  a  spirit 
of  deep  melancholy,  and  he  writes  mysteriously  of 
unavoidable  misfortunes  that  gather  around  his 
head,  which  make  him  doubt  "what  a  day  may  bring 
forth." 

Everywhere  he  goes,  his  eyes  are  wide  open  and 
he  sees  something  to  interest  him.  At  Musselburgh 
he  is  amused  by  the  gentlemen  who  devote  their  time 
to  "the  game  of  golph."  and  in  a  little  "aside"  he 
whispers  to  us  his  opinion  that  it  is  "a  more  healthy 
than  entertaining  amusement."  His  interest  is  ex- 
cited by  the  Solon  geese  of  the  Bass, — a  great  rock 
in  Comley  Bay, — while  at  Dunbar  he  recalls  "the  ef- 
fects of  Paul  Jones's  appearance  in  the  Frith  last 
zvar,"  who  came  "so  near  the  place  with  some  of  his 
ships  as  to  demolish  some  of  the  chimney  tops  and 
put  the  inhabitants  in  terrible  consternation."  He 
examined  the  half-moon  battery  of  stone  "whereon 
have  been  mounted  seventeen  twelve-pounders  as  a 
result  of  the  citizens'  fright,"  and  he  explores  the 
ruins  of  the  old  Dunbar  castle  with  its  gloomy  caves 
and  foundations  of  rock  jutting  into  the  sea. 
King's-Horn  recalls  to  him  the  melancholy  death  of 
Alexander  HI,  and  the  castle  of  Craig  Miller  brings 
him  memories  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  His  travels 
throw  him  among  fishermen,  butchers,  and  stock- 
raisers  chiefly,  and  his  one  experience  with  a  lady  of 


48  ALEXANDER  WII^SON  :    POET-NATURALIST, 

quality  is  a  sad  one.  Encouraged  by  the  reputa- 
tion of  the  good  Duchess  of  Buccleugh  he  mixes  in 
the  gaiety  of  the  Dalkeith  Fair  with  the  hope  of  get- 
ting her  patronage,  only  to  be  rewarded  by  a 
*'soul-piercing"  answer,  ''I  don't  want  any  of  these 
things." 

His  trip,  spent  partly  in  soliciting  subscriptions 
to  his  poems,  was  unsatisfactory  enough,  but  not 
half  so  disappointing  as  the  one  he  took  to  deliver 
the  books,  for  too  many  refused  at  last  to  take 
the  book  they  had  signed  their  names  for;  even 
an  old  fellow,  who  agreed  to  take  one  if  Wilson 
would  sacrifice  half  the  price  with  him  "at  the 
shrine  of  Bacchus,"  pleaded  that  "poverty  had 
frozen  up  his  pockets." 

The  first  edition  of  his  poems  came  out  in  the 
autumn  of  1790  and  bore  on  its  title  page,  "Poems 
by  Alexander  Wilson,  Paisley,  Printed  by  John  Neil- 
son  for  the  Author,"  but  he  wrote  in  November  that 
after  using  every  scheme  he  could  invent,  no  one 
seemed  disposed  to  encourage  him  and  he  was  un- 
able even  to  pay  his  friend  Neilson  for  the  few 
copies  that  he  had  sold. 

In  the  following  year  he  says  in  a  letter,  "All 
the  stories  you  have  read  of  garretts,  tatters,  un- 
merciful duns,  lank  hunger  and  poetical  hunger 
are  all  sadly  realized  in  me,"  and  once  more  he 
turns  for  salvation  to  the  hated  but  profitable 
loom,  finding  still  some  pleasure  in  his  verses,  and 
in  an  occasional  debate  at  the  Pantheon  in  Edin- 
burgh, where  his  speeches  in  verse  were  "crowned 
with  the  most  unbounded  applause." 

Among  his  friends  of  these  years  were  his  com- 


Wilson's  early  years  in  Scotland  49 

panion  of  the  loom,  David  Brodie,  eccentric  but 
clever  and  popular;  Ebenezer  Picken,  a  Univer- 
sity of  Glasgow  man  who  forsook  his  possible 
career  in  the  church  for  poetry,  became  later 
a  teacher  and  edited  a  "Scottish  Dictionary," 
but  died  in  poverty  in  181 5  or  '16;  James 
Kennedy,  a  poet  of  small  local  reputation; 
William  McGavin,  author  of  the  "Protest- 
ant," and  good  old  Thomas  Crichton,  who  of  all 
Wilson's  Scottish  friends  was  the  truest  and  most 
leal.  Crichton  was  born  in  1761  and  was,  there- 
fore, five  years  Wilson's  senior;  by  profession  he 
was  a  teacher ;  he  became  master  of  Town's  Hospi- 
tal in  1 79 1  and  was  elder  in  Middle  Church.  He 
was  also  a  friend  of  the  distinguished  President  of 
Princeton  University,  John  Witherspoon,  and  he  did 
honor  to  the  memory  of  both  of  his  friends  by  his 
reminiscences.  He  lived  to  a  good  old  age,  not 
dying  until  November  18,  1844.  It  was  during 
these  years,  too,  that  Wilson  most  probably  formed 
the  acquaintance  of  Burns.  Dr.  Hetherington 
quotes  Mr.  P.  A.  Ramsey  of  Paisley  as  authority  for 
the  statement  that  Wilson  visited  Burns  in  Ayrshire, 
and  described  his  visit  "in  the  most  rapturous 
terms."  From  Wilson's  two  poems  on  Burns  we 
know  that  they  knew  each  other  and  that  Wilson 
held  Burns  in  the  highest  personal  esteem. 

Wilson's  second  edition  of  his  poems  was  published 
in  1 79 1  and  was  merely  the  remainder  of  the  old 
unsold  edition  with  a  new  title  page  and  some  omis- 
sions and  additions.  The  title  page  read,  "Poems, 
Humourous,  Satirical,  and  Serious  by  Alexander 
4 


50  ALEXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

Wilson,  Edinburgh,  printed  for  the  author,  and  sold 
by  P.  Hill,  1791." 

It  was  not  until  the  publication  of  "Watty  and 
Meg,"  however,  in  1792,  that  any  success  came  to 
him;  but  the  sale  of  this  poem,  which  was  pub- 
lished in  a  separate  pamphlet,  was  great.  Encour- 
aged by  the  success  of  this  venture  and  of  another 
poem,  "The  Laurel  Disputed,"  which  he  delivered 
first,  in  behalf  of  Fergusson's  poetry,  at  the  Pan- 
theon, at  Edinburgh,  Wilson  threw  himself 
vigorously  on  the  side  of  the  weavers  in  a 
controversy  with  their  employers,  and  with 
more  courage  than  discretion  wrote  a  series 
of  crude,  bitter,  satirical  verses  of  which 
"The  Shark"  is  a  good  representative.  The 
ire  of  the  local  potentates,  who  were  thus  attacked, 
was  fired  to  a  white  heat  and  Wilson  was  forced  to 
burn  his  verses  "At  the  Cross."  His  doubtful 
friend,  William  McGavin,  tells  a  story  of  Wilson's 
having  offered  to  suppress  them  for  five  guineas,  and 
there  has  been  published  a  letter  purporting  to  be 
the  one  Wilson  wrote.  But  since  there  is  not  suffi- 
cient testimony  of  the  authenticity  of  this,  we  are 
disposed  to  discredit  it,  as  it  is  not  at  all  in  keep- 
ing with  what  we  know  of  Wilson's  character. 

The  William  Sharp  who  was  the  object  of  the 
satirical  poem  entitled  "The  Shark"  was  a  man  of 
considerable  local  prominence  as  a  large  owner  of 
property  and  the  employer  of  many  weavers. 
Though  the  poem  scarcely  seems  to  us  to  lay  the 
author  open  to  conviction  for  libel,  yet  the  man  who 
was  prosecuting  him  was  able  to  secure  judgment 
against  him  and  pushed  his  advantage  pitilessly.     It 


Wilson's  early  years  in  Scotland  51 

is  interesting  to  note,  as  I  am  able  to  do  through  the 
kind  information  of  Mr.  John  Kent  of  Paisley,  that 
the  well-known  man  of  letters,  William  Sharp,  who 
died  only  in  1905,  and  whose  authorship  of  the 
poems  published  over  the  name  of  "Fiona  McLeod" 
has  just  become  known,  was  the  grandson  of  Wil- 
liam Sharp,  the  local  potentate  of  Wilson's  day. 

Wilson  was  fined  £12  13s.  6d.,  an  amount  more 
than  he  was  able  to  pay,  and  was  told  by  way  of 
comfort  that  his  prosecutor,  Mr.  Sharp,  "was  re- 
solved to  punish  him  even  though  at  some  cost  to 
himself."*  When  at  last  he  was  free  again,  dis- 
gusted with  his  harsh  treatment,  and  with  his  head 
full  of  democratic  ideas,  he  very  naturally  turned 
his  thoughts  toward  America,  whither  so  many 
Scotchmen  were  emigrating.  He  loved  Scotland 
with  a  devotion  that  never  grew  dim,  no,  not  even  in 
his  later  years  when  his  love  for  his  adopted  coun- 
try had  reached  its  warmest  stage ;  but  he  saw  that 
it  was  best  for  him  to  seek  his  fortunes  in  a  new 
world.  What  made  it  harder  to  leave  Scotland,  and 
yet  at  the  same  time  wiser,  was  that  he  loved 
a  lady, — she  whom  he  addressed  in  his  poems  as 
"Matilda," — who  "was,"  to  quote  his  friend,  good 
old  Thomas  Crichton,  "snatched  by  fortune  from  his 
arms."  Sir  William  Jardine  says,  "We  have  reason 
to  know  that  the  charms  of  Matilda  McLean,  the 
sister  of  his  friend,  Mrs.  Witherspoon,  had  material- 
ly interfered  with  his  mind's  ease."  In  a  new  world, 
however,  he  could  dream  the  dreams  of  poetry  and 
realize  the  dreams  of  freedom ;  in  a  new  world  what 
might  he  not  do  ? 

*  Wilson  was  confined  in  jail  for  a  short  time. 


52  AI^EXANDER  WII^ON  I    POET-NATURALIST 

By  the  banks  of  the  White  Cart,  where  the  gulls 
were  tossing  lightly  in  the  wind  above  them,  he  bade 
his  few  loyal  friends  farewell,  and  set  out  with  his 
nephew,  William  Duncan,  the  son  of  his  former  em- 
ployer, to  take  the  ship  Szvift  which  sailed  on  the 
23rd  of  May,  1794,  for  America.  It  was  a  beauti- 
ful summer  afternoon  when  he  looked  for  the  last 
time  with  sad  and  tearful  eyes  on  the  receding  shores 
of  the  old  world,  but  before  him  danced  bright  and 
pleasant  visions  of  "prosperous  days  on  the  banks 
of  the  Delaware"  amid  a  new  people  and  on  alien 
soil. 


CHAPTER  III 

NEW  LIFE  IN  A  NEW  IvAND 

"It  was  a  bright  warm  day  in  July,  1698,"  says 
a  Scotch  writer,  "that  the  shores  and  pier  of  Leith 
were  thronged  with  dense  crowds  of  people,  whose 
cheers  rose  loud  and  jubilant  as  a  tiny  fleet  of  three 
vessels,  with  a  crew  of  1,200  picked  men,  hoisted 
sail  to  cross  the  Atlantic.  This  was  the  first  of  the 
expeditions  that  went  forth  to  Darien  as  to  an  El 
Dorado." 

This,  the  ill-fated  dream  of  William  Paterson  to 
improve  the  conditions  of  the  Scottish  people  by 
colonizing  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  was  the  beginning 
of  a  great  stream  of  emigrants  who  were  through 
so  many  years  to  seek  in  the  new  world  their  El 
Dorado.  It  was  nearly  a  hundred  years  after  that 
first  departure  from  the  pier  at  Leith,  that  the  ship 
Szvift  hoisted  its  sail  at  Belfast  Loch,  with  three 
hundred  and  fifty  passengers  huddled  in  together 
"with  scarce  a  foot  for  each."  Among  these  emi- 
grants was  Alexander  Wilson.  He  had  lived,  we 
are  told,  four  months  at  the  expense  of  only  a  shill- 
ing a  week  in  order  to  make  this  possible.  By  foot 
he  went  with  his  nephew,  William  Duncan,  to  Port 
Patrick,  whence  he  sailed  to  Belfast,  Ireland,  w^here 
he  embarked.  Disappointed  in  his  dreams  of  love 
and  poetry,  suspected  politically,  out  of  heart  with 
everything  about  him,  the  way  of  betterment  w^hich 
William  Paterson  had  pointed  out  nearly  a  hundred 
summers  before  seemed  to  him  not  a  bad  one,  and 


54  ALEXANDER  wii^son:    poet-naturawst 

cutting  himself  loose  from  all  that  bound  him  to  his 
past,  he  too  went  to  seek  his  El  Dorado.  The  bright 
23rd  day  of  May,  1794,  was  the  beginning  of  a  dis- 
mal, w^earisome  voyage  which  did  not  end  until  the 
middle  of  July.  Only  an  old  woman  and  two  chil- 
dreli  died  on  the  vessel  before  the  middle  of  June 
and  the  crew  considered  themselves  lucky  indeed ; 
then  a  sailor  dropped  overboard  and  was  lost,  and 
two  more  men  were  drowned  in  making  the  landing. 
It  was  indeed  a  sad  trip ;  only  once  was  its  gloomi- 
ness broken,  when  Dr.  Reynolds,  who  had  been  tried 
and  condemned  by  the  Irish  House  of  Lords,  was 
found  on  board.  He  treated  all  round  to  rum-grog, 
which  was  drunk  "to  the  confusion  of  despots,  and 
the  prosperity  of  liberty  all  the  world  over,"  a  senti- 
ment which  was  perhaps  never  more  really  felt  than 
just  at  this  period,  and  one  in  which  Wilson  was 
ever  ready  to  pledge  deeply. 

The  Swift  cast  anchor  first  off  Reedy  Island  at 
seven  at  night  on  July  15,  and  at  midday  of 
the  14th,  Wilson  and  Duncan  set  out  on 
foot  to  walk  the  five  miles  from  Newcastle, 
where  they  disembarked,  to  Wilmington,  Del- 
aware, in  hopes  of  finding  there  some  weav- 
ing to  do.  Wilson's  life  in  the  new  world  was 
not  to  begin  very  auspiciously,  however,  for  at  Wil- 
mington he  found,  to  his  surprise,  only  two  silk 
looms  and  for  himself  no  employment.  His  disap- 
pointment was  not  too  great  for  him  to  note  with 
sharp  eyes  everything  of  interest  about  him.  "The 
writer  of  this  Biography,"  says  George  Ord,  his 
friend  and  collaborator,  and  the  first  of  his  biograph- 
ers, "has  a  distinct  recollection  of  a  conversation 


NEW  UFE  IN  A  NEW  LAND  55 

with  Mr.  Wilson  on  this  part  of  his  history, 
wherein  he  described  his  sensations  on  viewing 
the  first  bird  that  presented  itself  as  he  entered 
the  forest  of  Delaware.  It  was  a  red-headed 
woodpecker,  which  he  shot,  and  considered  the 
most  beautiful  bird  he  had  ever  beheld."  Already 
he  was  beginning  to  make  the  mental  notes  which 
were  to  assist  him,  not  only  in  the  choice  of  his 
final  great  lifework,  but  also  in  carrying  it 
through  to  completion. 

On  his  way  over  the  twenty-nine  miles  of  country 
from  Wilmington  to  Philadelphia,  the  rich  plumage 
of  the  birds,  especially  the  red-birds  which  flashed 
their  scarlet  wings  across  the  road  as  they  passed, 
interested  him  and  made  lighter  the  journey.  Again 
disappointed  in  finding  work  at  the  loom,  and  their 
last  farthing  gone,  the  two  men  "took  the  first  offer 
of  employment"  that  presented  itself;  what  its  na- 
ture was  Wilson  does  not  cay,  but  there  is  a  sugges- 
tion of  feeling  in  his  reference  to  the  laborers  who 
had  to  endure  work  with  "the  spade  or  wheelbarrow 
under  the  almost  intolerable  heat  of  a  scorching 
sun,"  that  makes  us  wonder  if  there  is  not  here  a 
hint  of  some  experience  of  his  own.  George  Ord 
says  that  he  was  first  employed  by  a  fellow  country- 
man, John  Aiken,  a  copperplate  printer  of  Philadel- 
phia. He  soon  gave  this  up  to  work  at  Pennypack 
Creek  about  ten  miles  from  Philadelphia,  with  Col- 
onel Joshua  Sullivan,  who  apparently  proved  himself 
a  true  friend.  For  a  little  while  he  tried  weaving-  in 
Virginia,  but  soon  returned  again  to  Pennypack, 
though  he  did  not  remain  there  very  long.  During 
this  period  he  was  forced  to  take  up  the  pack  again, 


56  AI.E:XANDER  WII.SON  :    P0KT-NATURAI4ST 

tramping  through  New  Jersey,  and  for  a  short  time 
he  taught  school  near  Frankfort,  Pennsylvania.  It 
was  a  life  of  trial  and  change  that  he  was  leading 
now,  so  that  all  of  this  occurred  in  the  space  of  less 
than  two  years,  for  by  the  end  of  1795  he  was  living 
in  Milestown,  Philadelphia  County,  Pennsylvania, 
where  he  remained,  apparently  residing  through  the 
entire  time  with  one  family,  until  the  ist  of  May, 
1801. 

Here  he  was  the  teacher  of  a  school  of  about  forty 
scholars,  in  the  midst  of  a  superstitious  but  "sober," 
industrious,  and  penurious  people,  who  were  nearly 
all  Germans.  Meanwhile,  he  studied  much  himself, 
mastered  the  German  language,  learned  and  prac- 
tised surveying,  wrote  verses  occasionally  and  took 
his  exercise  in  long  cross-country  walks  or  rides. 
His  health  during  this  time  was  undoubtedly  bad, 
for  once  or  twice  he  was  forced  to  give  up  his  teach- 
ing, but  he  never  complained  throughout  it  all; 
though  to  his  Scottish  friends  who  questioned  him 
whether  they  would  be  wise  in  coming  to  America, 
he  wrote  that  they  must  consider  "the  uncertainty 
of  the  country  agreeing  with  their  constitutions  (for 
it  has  been,  I  fear,  fatal  to  mine.)" 

William  Duncan  had  not  remained  with  him  dur- 
ing these  years,  but,  giving  up  the  loom,  he  had  gone 
to  Ovid,  Cayuga  County,  New  York,  where  he  was 
managing  a  farm,  which  he  and  his  uncle  possessed 
together.  There  a  short  time  later,  his  mother, — 
Wilson's  sister  Mary, — who  had  come  over  from 
the  old  country,  joined  him,  with  her  other  children. 

Wilson's  life  at  Milestown  ended  suddenly.  Just 
why  he  left  the  place  we  cannot  say,  but  the  circum- 


NEW  UFE  IN  A  NEW  LAND  57 

Stances  attending  his  departure  were  unhappy 
and  mysterious.  The  trouble  grew  out  of  an  affair 
of  the  heart,  but  more  than  this  is  not  clear.  On 
the  I  St  of  May,  1801,  in  a  short,  rather  disconnected 
letter,  he  wrote  to  his  friend,  Charles  Orr,  a  Scotch 
schoolmaster  of  Philadelphia:  "I  have  matters  to 
lay  before  you  that  have  almost  distracted  me.  * 
*  *  I  have  no  friend  but  yourself,  and  one  whose 
friendship  has  involved  us  both  in  ruin,  or  threatens 
to  do  so."  Six  weeks  later  he  moved  to  Bloomfield, 
New  Jersey,  utterly  disgusted  with  everything  in 
America,  and  from  here  he  pleaded  with  Orr  to  re- 
turn with  him  to  ''Caledonia."  He  was  anxious 
to  know  just  what  was  said  of  him  at  Milestown 
without  any  one's  learning  where  he  was,  and  he 
begged  Orr  with  pathetic  earnestness  to  find  out 

"how  Mrs.  is."     Again  he  wrote,  "As  to  the 

reports  at  Milestown,  were  I  alone  the  subject  of 
them  they  would  not  disturb  me,  but  she  who  loves 
me  dearer  than  her  own  soul,  whose  image  is  for- 
ever with  me,  whose  heart  is  broken  for  her  friend- 
ship to  me,  she  must  bear  all  with  not  one  friend 
to  whom  she  dare  unbosom  her  sorrows.  Of  all 
the  events  of  my  life  nothing  gives  me  such  inex- 
pressible misery  as  this."  Over  and  over  he  be- 
sought his  friend  to  find  out  the  condition  of  this 
unknown  lady,  but  he  always  cautioned  him  to  let 
no  one  know  his  address.  It  seems  to  have  been  an 
attachment  which  grew  between  Wilson  and  a  lady 
already  married;  but  Wilson  appears  to  have  left 
the  place  with  honor  and  discretion  as  soon  as  he 
realized  its  existence. 

Nearly  all  of  the  biographers  have  dwelt  on  the 


58  AI,EXANDER  WILSON  :     POET-NATURAUST 

fact  that  Wilson  was  never  seriously  in  love,  but 
we  see  how  untrue  this  is  when  we  remember  his 
unsuccessful  affair  in  Scotland  and  read  the  really 
pathetic  letters  referring  to  this  second  woman, 
whose  image  he  declared  "no  time  nor  distance  can 
ever  banish"  from  his  mind.  We  are  to  find,  how- 
ever, that  he  was  less  constant  than  he  thought  and 
was  to  leave  a  fair  sweetheart  to  mourn  him  after  his 
death.  We  hear  nothing  more  of  the  episode  which 
caused  his  departure  from  Milestown.  During  the 
time  that  he  lived  at  Milestown,  Wilson  accom- 
plished on  foot  the  journey  of  nearly  eight  hundred 
miles  to  Ovid,  New  York,  to  assist  William  Duncan 
in  the  arrangement  of  his  affairs  there.  So  unfail- 
ing was  he  in  his  devotion  to  his  loved  ones  that 
no  exertion  was  ever  too  much  for  him  to  under- 
take in  their  behalf. 

In  Bloomfield  Wilson  resumed  his  interrupted 
pedagogic  duties  at  the  rate  of  "12  s.  per  quarter 
York  currency"  with  thirty-five  pupils,  but  from  the 
first  he  had  no  love  for  the  place.  The  people  were 
more  ignorant  and  even  more  superstitious  than 
those  of  Milestown.  Even  the  belief  in  witches  was 
so  prevalent  that  when  a  Dutch  doctor  declared  that 
the  trouble  with  one  of  his  patients  was  due  to  the 
bewitchment  of  an  old  woman  of  the  neighborhood, 
the  justice  actually  issued  a  warrant  by  the  authority 
of  which  she  was  dragged  to  the  sick  man's  room 
in  order  that  he  might  tear  her  flesh  with  his  nails 
and  so  overcome  the  spell.  Among  such  people  as 
this,  there  could  be  little  that  was  agreeable  to  a  man 
of  Wilson's  temperament,  so  that  his  appointment  to 
the  school  near  Gray's  Ferry,  Pennsylvania,  came  to 


NEW  lyll^E  IN  A  NEW  LAND  59 

him  somewhat  in  the  nature  of  a  rehef,  though 
teaching  was  not  pleasant  to  him  anywhere.  He 
loved  to  be  out  in  the  open,  drinking  in  the  fresh  air, 
following  the  birds  through  the  forest — in  short,  as 
it  seemed  then,  playing  truant  to  the  world  and  its 
work-a-day  problems ;  and  anything  which  shut  him 
up  indoors,  whether  it  were  weaving  or  teaching, 
was  a  thing  to  be  hated.  On  the  25th  of  February, 
1802,  he  resumed  his  teaching,  having  given  up  his 
school  at  Bloomfield  some  time  before  this.  The 
Gray's  Ferry  school  paid  him  one  hundred  dollars 
per  quarter,  and  not  more  than  fifty  scholars  were 
to  be  admitted.  The  discipline  here  before  he  came 
had  been  disgracefully  lax,  but  with  his  usual  rigid 
severity — for  Wilson  believed  in  the  old  "spare  the 
rod  and  spoil  the  child"  adage — he  soon  brought 
things  into  order.  Gray's  Ferry  was  to  give  him 
the  most  pleasant  years  of  his  life.  As  early  as  July 
of  this  summer  he  declared  that  his  harp  was  "new 
strung,"  and  his  old  sanguine  aspirations  after  fame 
returned.  "My  heart  swells,"  he  said;  "my  soul 
rises  to  an  elevation  I  cannot  express,  and  I  think 
I  may  yet  produce  some  of  these  glowing  wilds  of 
rural  scenery — some  new  Paties,  Rogers,  Glauds 
and  Simons,*  that  will  rank  with  these  favorites  of 
my  country  when  their  author  has  mixed  with  the 
kindred  clay."  The  dream  was  still  haunting  him 
that  he  might  follow  in  the  steps  of  Allan  Ramsay 
and  sing  his  way  to  fame  as  Burns  had  done.  The 
later  vision  that  was  to  reveal  the  path  of  fame  to 

*  He  refers   to   Ramsay's   "Gentle   Shepherd,"   of   which   he   was   very 
fond. 


6o  AI.EXANDER  WIIvSON  :    POE;T-NA'rURAUST 

him  in  very  truth,  had  not  yet  dawned  upon  him,  but 
it  was  near  at  hand. 

The  resuh  of  the  "new  stringing"  of  Wilson's 
harp  was  soon  apparent  when  "The  Invitation,"  a 
verse  letter  addressed  to  Charles  Orr,  appeared  in 
the  Literary  Magazine  and  American  Register  of 
July,  1804.  The  magazine,  published  in  Philadel- 
phia, was  edited  by  the  talented  novelist,  Charles 
Brockden  Brown,  and  the  editor  hailed  the  poet  in 
his  notes  "To  Correspondents"  in  these  words :  "The 
author  of  the  poetical  epistle  published  in  the  pres- 
ent number  is  thanked  for  his  communication.  Any 
coin  from  the  same  mint  will  always  be  deemed  gen- 
uine and  current  with  us."  A  mild  encouragement, 
which,  however,  led  later  to  the  publication  of  vari- 
ous other  poems,  among  the  best  of  which  were 
"The  Rural  Walk"  and  "The  Solitary  Tutor."  Wil- 
son, in  the  time  that  he  had  been  silent,  had  gained 
considerable  mastery  of  his  measures,  and  the  poems 
of  this  period  are  the  finest  that  he  ever  wrote,  ex- 
cepting always  the  earlier  "Watty  and  Meg"  and 
the  later  "Blue-bird"  and  "Fish-hawk,"  or  "Os- 
prey." 

Meanwhile,  things  had  not  gone  so  well  among 
Wilson's  relatives,  either  in  America  or  in  Scotland, 
in  spite  of  the  unselfish  assistance  which  he  was  ever 
rendering  them  whenever  he  was  able  to  do  so.  His 
father's  affairs  and  those  of  his  brothers-in-law  were 
far  from  bright,  while  he  was  ever  writing  full- 
hearted,  encouraging  letters  to  keep  up  the  spirits 
of  his  struggling  nephews  in  Ovid.  The  elder  Wil- 
liam Duncan  had  come  to  America,  where  he  soon 
began  drinking  excessively,  and  only  increased,  in- 


NEW  UFE  IN  A  NEW  LAND  6l 

stead  of  lightening,  the  burdens  of  his  sons  and 
brother-in-law.  These  troubles,  united  with  his 
own  personal  difficulties,  often  brought  Wilson's 
naturally  gloomy  disposition  into  what  he  himself 
called  the  "slough  of  despondency ;"  but  his  friend- 
ship for  the  good  old  naturalist,  William  Bartram, 
served  as  an  excellent  antidote  to  his  melancholia. 
Bartram  was  a  man  of  distinction  as  a  botanist  and 
was  somewhat  widely  known  as  a  writer  on  orni- 
thology; he  had  many  acquaintances  among  the 
naturalists  of  the  day,  and  above  all  else  he  was  a 
level-headed,  big-hearted  gentleman.  He  was  not 
slow  to  notice  the  unfortunate  effect  that  Wilson's 
spells  of  melancholy  had  on  his  happiness,  and  he 
united  with  another  of  Wilson's  friends,  Alexander 
Lawson,  so  to  fill  up  his  time  with  interesting  pur- 
suits that  there  could  be  no  hours  left  for  brooding 
over  his  misfortunes.  It  was  about  this  time,  too, 
that  a  narrow  escape  from  the  accidental  discharge 
of  his  gun,  while  he  was  in  the  woods  alone,  startled 
Wilson  to  a  realization  of  how,  should  he  die  in  any 
uncertain  manner,  he  would  be  thought  to  be  a  sui- 
cide. Of  this  possibility  he  had  great  horror,  and 
was  as  ready  as  his  friends  would  have  him  be  to 
enter  into  their  plans.  Accordingly,  at  their  sug- 
gestion he  began  the  study  of  birds  and  of  drawing, 
as  a  pleasant  way  to  spend  his  unoccupied  moments. 
His  self-given  lessons,  under  the  guidance  of  Wil- 
liam Bartram's  niece,  Miss  Ann  Bartram,  afterward 
Mrs.  Carr,  progressed  most  satisfactorily  in  spite 
of  having  to  be  carried  on  chiefly  by  candlelight,  and 
he  was  no  less  successful  in  his  study  of  the  birds 
themselves,  though  he  knew  little  of  their  nomen- 


62         ale;xande:r  wii^son  :   poet-naturalist 

clature.  In  March,  1804,  less  than  five  years  before 
the  appearance  of  the  first  volume  of  the  "American 
Ornithology,"  Wilson  sent  to  Bartram  a  collection 
of  bird-drawings,  which  he  had  made,  with  the  re- 
quest that  he  should  write  their  names  under  them, 
as,  with  the  exception  of  three  or  four,  he  did  not 
know  them.  Yet  even  then  the  idea  of  his  monu- 
mental work  was  beginning  to  take  some  shape  in 
his  mind,  for  as  early  as  June,  1803,  he  wrote  to 
Thomas  Crichton,  "I  have  had  many  pursuits  since 
I  left  Scotland — Mathematics,  the  German  Lan- 
guage, Music,  Drawing,  etc.,  and  now  I  am  about 
to  make  a  collection  of  all  our  finest  birds."  The 
idea  once  in  his  head  was  not  to  leave  him.  Five 
days  in  the  week  he  had  no  time  to  spare  from  his 
bread-earning  school  duties,  but  the  other  two,  with 
little  regard  for  his  ever-weakening  health,  he  sacri- 
ficed to  the  "itch  for  drawing"  which  he  says  he 
had  caught  from  Alexander  Lawson.  It  was  Law- 
son  to  whom  he  wrote  in  March,  1804,  that  he  meant 
to  carry  out  his  plan  "of  making  a  collection  of  all 
the  birds  in  this  part  of  North  America."  He 
granted  that  the  plan  was  Quixotic,  a  sort  of  "brain 
windmill,"  but  it  was  to  him  one  of  his  "earthly 
comforts." 

There  were  before  him,  however,  long  years  of 
trial  and  struggle,  of  study  of  American  birds  pri- 
marily, and  secondarily  of  American  people,  before 
he  was  at  last  to  realize  his  ambitions  and  become 
famous  as  the  American  Ornithologist. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  MAKING  01^  AN  AMERICAN 

Gray's  Ferry,  Kingsessing,  Pennsylvania,  was  a 
far  different  place  in  the  first  decade  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  from  what  we  should  find  it  to-day. 
Wilson  has  feelingly  painted  it  in  his  "Solitary 
Tutor"  and  in  "The  Invitation."  The  schoolhouse 
in  which  he  taught  was  a  square  stone  building  of 
small  pretension,  down  in  a  "bridge-built  hollow" 
about  half  a  mile  from  Gray's  Ferry  and  the  Schuyl- 
kill. Around  it  on  the  sloping  green  "the  old  gray 
white-oaks"  and  the  "tufted  cedars"  shed  their 
grateful  shade  and  a  line  of  tall  young  poplars  stood 
near  in  even  columns,  while  behind  it  rose  the  forest 
in  whose  depths  lived  Wilson's  truest  friends,  the 
birds.  Across  from  the  school-house  green,  was 
the  Sorrel -horse  Tavern  and  adjoining  it,  the  white- 
washed blacksmith's  shop.  Along  the  road,  espec- 
ially just  before  market  days,  a  throng  of  travel- 
ers passed  to  and  from  the  city,  "an  ever-varying 
scene  *  :k  *  with  horsemen,  thundering 
stage  and  stately  team."  Not  far  from  the 
school-building  was  the  house  where  Wilson 
lived,  a  "yellow-fronted  cottage"  sheltered  by  great 
poplars  and  a  weeping  willow.  In  the  yard,  full 
of  roses  and  catalpa  trees,  the  hopvines  and  honey- 
suckle grew  luxuriant,  and  every  sort  of  fruit 
ripened  on  the  plentiful  boughs,  while  the  woods 
so  near  at  hand  were  full  of  many  kinds  of  birds 
and  the  streams  plentiful  with  fish. 


64  AI^EXANDER  WIIvSON  :    POI^^-NATURALIST 

Such  was  Gray's  Ferry  in  the  summer  season,  and 
if  in  the  winter  it  lost  some  of  its  poetical  beauty, 
when  at  nighttime  the  cellar  of  the  schoolhouse 
echoed  with  the  squalling  of  cats,  and  the  loft  with 
the  rattling  of  flying  squirrels,  yet  for  Wilson  it 
was  still  a  pleasant  haven  from  the  dirt  and  noise 
of  the  city.  Let  no  one  think,  however,  that  his 
life  was  an  easy  one  here.  He  worked  sometimes 
five,  sometimes  six  days  in  the  week  all  day  long, 
after  the  custom  of  that  time,  at  his  school  duties, 
without  having  even  then  the  assurance  of  his  pay. 
Not  that  his  work  was  not  satisfactory  to  his  pa- 
trons, for  it  seems  to  have  been  eminently  so ;  but 
the  people  were  not  wealthy,  and  the  hard  winters 
sometimes  made  it  impossible  for  many  of  the  chil- 
dren to  attend  school.  In  1805  the  Schuylkill  and 
the  Delaware  were  both  impassable  and  many  of 
the  families  whose  children  had  been  pupils  of  the 
Gray's  Ferry  School  were  "almost  in  a  state  of  star- 
vation." At  the  end  of  the  term  fifteen  dollars  was 
all  that  AVilson  was  able  to  raise,  a  sum  insufficient 
to  pay  even  his  board.  He  summoned  the  trustees 
together  and  stated  the  case,  proposing  to  give  up 
the  school,  but  they  would  not  consent  to  this ;  a 
meeting  of  the  people  was  called  and  "forty-eight 
scholars  instantly  subscribed  for,"  a  sufficient  in- 
dication of  the  satisfaction  which  was  felt  with  Wil- 
son's teaching. 

The  difficulties  through  which  Wilson  had  passed 
previous  to  this  may  be  imagined  when  we 
read  a  letter  to  William  Duncan  that  he 
wrote  on  his  return  from  his  tour  to  Ovid 
and   Niagara,  which   is   described   in   "The   For- 


THE  MAKING  OF  AN  AMERICAN  65 

esters."  He  found  that  the  people  with  whom 
he  Hved  had  named  a  boy  after  him  in  his 
absence  and  he  presented  his  god-son  with  six  dol- 
lars, which,  after  paying  for  a  cord  of  wood,  left 
him  only  three-quarters  of  a  dollar  in  the  world. 
Yet  in  his  little  retreat  in  the  "bridge-built  hollow" 
were  conceived  some  of  his  best  poems  and,  what  is 
infinitely  more,  here  came  to  him  the  notion  of  writ- 
ing his  ornithology  and  from  here  he  set  out  on  his 
first  tours.  By  means  of  these  travels  he  met  many 
men  of  distinction  and  saw  with  an  observing  eye 
the  life  of  many  parts  of  America. 

The  first  of  his  long  journeys  was  the  one  to 
Niagara  in  the  fall  of  1804,  part  of  which  he 
traveled  in  company  with  William  Duncan  and  part 
alone.  He  returned  from  this  expedition  on  the 
7th  of  December,  having  walked  forty-seven  miles 
the  last  day ;  he  had  been  gone  two  months,  during 
which  time  he  covered  between  twelve  and  thirteen 
hundred  miles  "through  deep  snows  and  almost  un- 
inhabited forests;  over  stupendous  mountains,  and 
down  dangerous  rivers."  This  was  his  trial  trip,  a 
test  of  his  strength  and  steadfastness,  and  he  proved 
himself  able  to  endure  much. 

There  is  a  true  ring  of  confidence  at  last  in  his 
letter  in  which  he  unfolds  his  proposed  journeys  to 
William  Bartram :  "For  all  the  hazards  and  priva- 
tions incident  to  such  an  undertaking,  I  feel  confident 
in  my  own  spirit  and  resolution.  With  no  family 
to  enchain  my  affections,  no  ties  but  those  of  friend- 
ship, and  the  most  ardent  love  of  my  adopted  coun- 
try; with  a  constitution  which  hardens  amidst 
5 


66        ai,exande;r  wilson:  poet-naturaust 

fatigues,  and  a  disposition  sociable  and  open,  which 
can  find  itself  at  home  by  an  Indian  fire  in  the  depths 
of  the  woods,  as  well  as  in  the  best  apartment  in  the 
civilized  world,  I  have  at  present  a  real  design  of 
becoming  a  traveler." 

The  time  was,  however,  not  yet  ripe  for  him; 
school-teaching  gave  him  no  more  than  a  bare  sup- 
port, and  in  order  to  travel  he  must  have  money. 
His  hopes  of  being  included  in  the  Pike  Expedition 
to  the  source  of  the  Arkansas,  to  which  we  shall 
refer  later,  were  disappointed,  and  for  a  while  noth- 
ing else  appeared  by  means  of  which  he  might  carry 
out  his  plans. 

In  the  mean  time,  William  Duncan  had  moved  to 
Pennsylvania  to  the  school  in  Milestown,  which 
Wilson  formerly  held,  and  was  anxious  that  his 
uncle  should  visit  him  and  make  some  political 
speeches.  In  reply  Wilson  wrote  that  he  had  al- 
ready been  heard  often  enough  about  Milestown  and 
his  presence  "might  open  old  sores  in  some"  of  Dun- 
can's "present  friends"  ;  moreover,  he  said  he  was 
determined  to  let  politics  alone,  hereafter,  as  be- 
getting many  enemies  and  doing  him  little  good, 
and  he  advised  Duncan  to  do  the  same.  "If  you 
and  I,"  he  wrote,  "attend  punctually  to  the  duties 
of  our  profession,  and  make  our  business  our  pleas- 
ure,— and  the  improvement  of  our  pupils,  with  their 
good  government,  our  chief  aim, — honor  and  re- 
spectability and  success  will  assuredly  attend  us, 
even  if  we  never  open  our  lips  on  politics."  Nor 
did  he  ever  depart  from  this  position  in  regard  to 
political  matters. 

Wilson  was  blessed  in  forming  a  few  singularly 


the:  making  01^  AN  AMERICAN  67 

good  friends.  William  Bartram,  whose  Botanic 
Gardens  and  wide  acquaintance  among  scientific 
men  had  meant  so  much  to  Wilson,  had  directed  his 
attention  to  ornithology,  and  taught  him  all  he  knew 
himself;  Alexander  Lawson,  the  engineer  and  en- 
graver, interested  him  in  drawing  and  etching,  and 
later  engraved  his  plates  for  him  at  a  nominal  cost 
''for  the  sake  of  old  Scotland,"  and  now  his  good 
genius  brought  him  to  the  attention  of  Mr.  S.  F. 
Bradford,  a  publisher  and  bookseller  of  the  firm  of 
Bradford  and  Inskeep,  of  Third  street,  Philadelphia. 
Bradford  was  about  to  bring  out  an  edition  of  Ree's 
New  Cyclopedia  in  twenty-two  quarto  volumes, 
and  Wilson  was  employed  at  a  salary  of  nine  hun- 
dred dollars  per  year  as  assistant  editor. 

On  the  1st  of  April,  1806,  after  nearly  ten  trouble- 
some years  of  teaching,  he  resigned  the  school  at 
Gray's  Ferry  and  moved  into  Philadelphia,  where 
he  applied  himself  with  the  closest  attention  to  his 
editorial  duties  and  to  preparing  himself  to  under- 
take the  writing  of  his  ornithology.  Very  soon 
after  his  connection  with  Bradford  and  Inskeep 
began,  he  unfolded  to  Mr.  Bradford  his  scheme 
for  the  publication  of  his  proposed  book  and  was 
promised  the  publisher's  support.  From  this  mo- 
ment to  his  last  day  he  was  ever  busy  on  this  proj- 
ect so  dear  to  his  heart,  now  drawing  with  inde- 
fatigable energy,  now  roaming  with  the  pros- 
pectus of  the  "Ornithology"  through  the  country, 
soliciting  subscribers  for  a  book  that  was  to  cost 
one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars. 

From  his  earlest  youth,  Wilson  had  let  no 
opportunity  for  self-improvement  slip  from  him; 


68  ALEXANDER  WII.SON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

and  now  he  was  busy  taking  notes  on  everything 
he  saw,  studying  the  people  and  the  country  as  he 
passed. 

In  September,  1808,  the  first  voknne  of  the 
monumental  "American  Ornithology"  appeared, 
but  to  Wilson  it  was  a  mere  earnest  of  what  he 
might  do  if  he  only  had  the  means.  The  book 
was  a  very  costly  one  and  even  at  the  rate  of  one 
hundred  and  twenty  dollars  per  set  he  would  have 
to  secure  a  large  number  of  subscribers  to  make 
his  expenses  clear.  A  long  and  bitter  training 
had  put  somewhat  of  masterfulness  into  his  na- 
ture, and  if  he  had  no  way  to  carry  his  plan 
through  he  must  make  one.  So  he  began  the 
long  toilsome  journeys,  of  the  fatigue  of  which 
even  his  letters  give  us,  perhaps,  but  a  dim  pic- 
ture. But  the  opportunity  of  learning  his  adopted 
country,  to  which  he  was  now  devoted,  soul  and 
body,  and  of  meeting  face  to  face  his  audience, 
was  fraught  with  possibilities  which  Wilson  was 
not  blind  to,  and  the  observations  on  contempo- 
rary life  which  he  has  left  in  his  somewhat  hasty 
personal  letters  are  exceedingly  valuable,  but 
must  always  be  judged  in  view  of  the  man  who 
wrote  them,  and  the  circumstances  under  which 
they  were  made.  Familiar  as  he  had  ever  been 
with  sorrow  and  poverty,  Wilson's  naturally  mel- 
ancholy disposition  deepened,  and  though  he  was 
of  too  earnest  and  steadfast  a  disposition  not  to 
be  very  hopeful  in  his  general  philosophy  of  life, 
yet  he  was  wont  to  form  too  gloomy  an  opinion 
of  the  special  conditions  with  which  he  came  into 
contact.     It  is  also  to  be  remembered  that  his 


THE  MAKING  OF  AN  AMERICAN  69 

point  of  view  was  that  of  a  stranger  who  was  often 
looked  upon  with  the  disapproval  which  is  not  infre- 
quently met  by  the  book  agent,  for  such,  doubt- 
less, many  then  regarded  Wilson.  In  spite  of 
this,  however,  when  we  have  allowed  for  the  con- 
stitutional moods  of  the  man,  his  powers  of  ob- 
servation were  remarkably  keen,  and  the  sincerity 
and  truthfulness  of  his  purpose  were  always  un- 
impeachable. Everywhere  he  went  he  found 
much  both  to  praise  and  to  censure.  On  his  pil- 
grimages he  visited  almost  every  college  then  of 
importance  in  the  country,  and  nearly  every  one 
subscribed  to  his  book  for  its  library,  receiving 
its  author  with  courtesy.  At  Princeton  President 
Smith  received  him  kindly  and  was  surprised  and 
pleased  with  the  work.  The  professors  of  Col- 
umbia were  even  more  hearty  in  their  commenda- 
tion, especially  the  professor  of  languages,  who, 
"being  a  Scotchman  and  also  a  Wilson,"  would 
have  done  him  any  favor  in  his  power.  The  lit- 
erati of  New  Haven  received  him  with  "politeness 
and  respect"  and  he  described  with  interest  the 
"streets  shaded  with  elm  trees  and  poplars,"  the 
large  common  covered  with  grass,  and  the  four 
or  five  wooden  spires  which  had  once  been  so  in- 
fested with  woodpeckers  that  "it  became  neces- 
sary to  set  people,  with  guns,  to  watch  and  shoot 
these  invaders  of  the  sanctuary." 

Later  he  was  honorably  entertained  by  Presi- 
dent  Wheelock  at  Dartmouth,  where  the  profes- 
sors vied  with  each  other  in  obliging  him,  and  at 
William  and  Mary  on  his  later  Southern  trip  he 
was  received  with  distinction  by  Bishop  Madison. 


70  AI^^XANDER  WILSON:    POET-NATURAUST 

In  New  England  he  met  some  veterans  of  the 
battle  of  Bunker  Hill  with  whom  he  visited  the 
old  battlefield,  and  one  may  see  in  his  letter  about 
this  visit  how  truly  American  he  had  become.  "I 
felt,"  he  declared,  "as  though  I  could  have  en- 
countered a  whole  battalion  myself  in  the  same 
glorious  cause." 

On  the  Southern  trip  which  followed  the  tour 
through  New  England,  Wilson  expressed  his 
opinion  in  his  letters  as  freely  as  he  had  done  in 
the  other  case.  In  Maryland  he  was  disgusted 
with  the  negroes  huddled  up  with  "their  filthy 
bundles  of  rags  around  them,"  but  Washington 
he  thinks  "a  noble  place  for  a  great  metropolis." 
Even  then,  "the  taverns  and  boarding-houses" 
were  crowded  with  an  odd  assemblage  of  charac- 
ters :  "Fat  placemen,  expectants,  contractors,  pe- 
titioners, office-hunters,  lumber-dealers,  salt-man- 
ufacturers, and  numerous  other  adventurers." 

Neither  Virginia  nor  Carolina  satisfied  him  al- 
together. The  streets  of  Norfolk  shocked  him  by 
their  "disgraceful  state" ;  Southampton  County 
by  its  almost  impassable  roads.  In  North  Caro- 
lina he  is  astonished  by  the  customary  morning 
drinking  of  toddies;  "you  scarcely  meet  a  man," 
he  wrote,  "whose  lips  are  not  parched  or  chapped 
or  blistered  with  drinking  this  poison."  Of  the 
taverns  he  remarked  that  they  were  "the  most 
desolate  and  beggarly  imaginable;  bare,  bleak 
and  dirty  walls ;  one  or  two  old  broken  chairs 
and  a  bench  form  all  the  furniture." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  there  were  not  many  tav- 
erns in  the  South  in  those  days;   the  open-house 


THE  MAKING  OI^  AN  AMERICAN  7I 

hospitality   of   the   people   made   little   need   for 
houses  of  public  entertainment. 

It  was  the  better  side  of  the  Southern  life  that 
Wilson  was  unable  to  see ;  for  whatever  else  they 
were  the  Southerners  were  a  people  of  aristo- 
cratic traditions,  and  a  man  who  came  among 
them  an  unintroduced  stranger  taking  subscrip- 
tions for  a  book  which  most  of  them  knew  and 
asked  little  about,  naturally  enough  did  not  see 
the  best  that  was  here,  any  more  than  he  had 
done  in  New  England.  "As  to  the  character  of 
the  North  Carolinians,"  he  added,  "were  I  to 
judge  of  it  by  the  specimens  I  met  with  in  tav- 
erns, I  should  pronounce  them  to  be  the  most  ig- 
norant, debased,  indolent  and  dissipated  portion 
of  the  Union.  But  I  became  acquainted  with  a 
few  such  noble  exceptions,  that,  for  their  sakes, 
I  am  willing  to  believe  that  they  are  all  better 
than  they  seemed  to  be."  Here  is  merely  an  ex- 
ample of  the  truth  that  every  chance  traveler 
must  remember — it  is  the  scum  of  society,  as  well 
as  of  other  things,  that  is  always  seen  the  easiest, 
because  it  floats  on  the  surface.  Wilson  was  a 
man  whom  his  best  friends  found  of  the  ''genus 
ivritahile,"  and  any  discourtesy  or  inattention 
shown  to  him  he  deeply  resented  and  was  slow 
to  forget.  Under  the  influence  of  the  tempera- 
mental effects  of  some  real  or  supposed  slight  he 
undoubtedly  saw  the  darker  side  of  things.  It  is 
not  strange  then  that  after  several  unanswered 
requests  for  lists  of  probable  subscribers  to  his 
"Ornithology"  he  should  declare  the  Southern 
people  to  be  cursed  with  an  "abject  and  disgrace- 


72  Ai^DXAND^R  wii^on:    POET-NATURAUST 

fill  listlessness."  In  these  generalizations,  hur- 
riedly expressed  in  his  letters  when  he  was  tired 
out  and  out  of  patience  with  the  people  that  he 
had  canvassed  all  day,  he  was  often  at  fault,  but 
in  his  special  remarks  and  his  descriptions  of  the 
things  that  he  actually  saw  he  was  almost  always 
accurate. 

From  Savannah  Wilson  had  expected  to  re- 
turn home  by  water,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  we 
learn  from  a  letter  written  to  his  father  that  he 
did  not  do  so,  for  he  wrote  that  he  had  "visited 
every  town  within  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of 
the  Atlantic  Coast,  from  the  River  St.  Lawrence 
to  St.  Augustine  in  Florida,"  yet  he  is  still  doubt- 
ful whether  he  can  cover  the  cost  of  the  publica- 
tion, or  must  suffer  the  sacrifice  "of  the  little 
all"  that  he  has.  With  this  letter  he  sent  to  his 
father  that  epoch-making  first  volume  of  his  "Or- 
nithology," the  book  which  stands  almost  as  the 
very  first — for  the  little  work  which  had  been 
done  by  Thomas  Jefferson  and  William  Bartram 
was  inconsiderable — example  of  ornithological  lit- 
erature in  America,  and  which  announced  the 
birth  of  a  new  study  in  the  United  States. 

A  decade  and  a  half  had  passed  away  now  since 
Wilson  came  to  America,  and  through  these  years 
there  had  been  going  on  a  slow  but  very  real  mod- 
ification in  the  man.  The  Wilson  who  had  burned 
his  own  verses  by  compulsion  at  the  Cross  of 
Paisley  was  a  Scotchman  through  and  through; 
even  his  liberality  of  view  and  love  of  freedom 
were  a  part  of  the  Scotch  character,  and  his  by  in- 
heritance.    Years  later  when  after  his  Milestown 


THE  MAKING  OF  AN  AMERICAN  73 

experience  he  proposed  to  Orr  to  leave  this  "un- 
worthy country,"  he  was  showing  that  not  yet 
had  he  become  thoroughly  American  in  feeling, 
but  even  then  the  change  was  taking  place.  By 
friendships  and  courtesies,  through  perils  by  land 
and  water,  in  common  dangers  and  common  in- 
terests, slowly,  surely,  unfailingly,  his  character 
was  being  fused  in  the  crucible  of  life  until  it  be- 
came as  distinctly  American  as  that  of  the  best 
native-born  man  with  whom  he  worked  and  lived. 
The  love  of  his  own  native  land  was  never  to 
fail  utterly  nor  grow  dim,  but  it  became  second  to 
that  which  he  felt  to  this  land  where  at  last  his 
dreams  began  to  fade  into  reality.  It  was  for  the 
love  of  this  new  country  of  his  that  he  began  his 
journey  and  endured  his  hardships,  and  now  at 
length  he  began  to  see,  as  so  many  others  have 
seen,  that  by  following  where  love  had  first  led 
him  he  might  come  to  receive  what  had  before 
been  denied  him,  the  fulfilment  of  his  dreams  of 
fame.  As  truly  representative  of  the  Scotland  of 
his  day  as  he  had  been,  he  became  no  less  repre- 
sentative now  of  the  America  in  which  he  lived. 
A  republican  of  the  most  enthusiastic  order,  fa- 
miliar with  American  men  and  forests,  and  cities, 
from  Maine  to  Florida,  a  political  speaker  at 
times,  and  a  writer  of  political  verse,  the  man  had 
become  an  American  indeed  when  he  could  say  in 
a  letter  to  his  father  that  he  would  "willingly  give 
a  hundred  dollars" — a  big  sum  with  him  just  then 
— "if  he  could  spend  a  few  days  in  Paisley,"  but 
that  he  "would  again  wing  his  way  across  the 
western  waste  of  water,  to  the  peaceful  and  happv 
regions  of  America," 


CHAPTER  V 

WII.SON  AND  CONTEMPORARY  AMERICANS 

Alexander  Wilson  was  a  man  almost  wholly 
self-educated,  used  rather  to  the  rough  customs 
of  a  weaver's  cottage  than  the  polished  manners 
of  a  drawing-room :  life  and  the  world  had  used 
him  roughly,  and  a  haughtiness  and  cold  reserve, 
which  was  lost  in  animation  when  one  knew  him, 
raised  a  barrier  between  him  and  the  stranger, 
yet  among  his  acquaintances  were  some  of  the 
foremost  men  of  the  day.  From  these  men  Wil- 
son received  much  both  of  education  and  inspira- 
tion, and  the  pleasure  and  interest  which  he  took 
in  meeting  them  meant  no  little  to  one  who  had 
known  so  few  of  the  sweeter  things  of  life. 

Perhaps  the  most  important  influence  in  Wil- 
son's life  was  the  friendship  of  the  good  old  bot- 
anist, William  Bartram,  of  whom  we  have  already 
spoken.  John  Bartram,  the  father  of  Wilson's 
friend,  who  was  a  man  of  no  little  distinction  him- 
self, laid  out  the  beautiful  Botanical  Gardens 
where  the  son  afterward  lived,  and  like  his  son  he 
was  known  for  his  writings  on  various  subjects, 
usually  connected  with  natural  history. 

Closely  following  in  his  father's  footsteps,  the 
son  was  perhaps  even  more  distinguished,  and 
was  able  to  bring  Wilson  into  acquaintance  with 
many  men  of  note.  He  was  considerably  older 
than  Wilson,  but  so  kindred  were  their  natures 
that  this  difference  in  age  never  interfered  with 


WILSON  AND  CONTEIMPORARY  AMERICANS  75 

the  close  friendship  that  only  blossomed  with  the 
years.  Bartram  wrote  in  a  clear,  vivid  style,  and 
the  year  or  two  which  Wilson  spent  at  his  house 
in  his  latter  years  scarcely  drew  him  into  closer 
contact  with  the  refining  influence  of  the  man's 
character  and  methods  than  he  had  already  been 
brought  by  his  earlier  study  of  his  prose. 

C."W.  Peale,  the  founder  of  the  Peale  Museum 
in  Philadelphia,  which  was  then  situated  in  old 
"Independence  Hall,"  was  also  able  to  assist  in 
broadening  his  acquaintance  among  helpful  peo- 
ple, and  to  bring  him  more  markedly  into  the  no- 
tice of  the  scientific  world. 

If  these  men  living  in  the  same  town  with  him 
had  a  more  intimate  influence  on  Wilson's  life, 
they  are  still  scarcely  more  interesting  to  us  than 
are  the  noteworthy  men  that  he  met  in  his  travels. 
We  have  spoken  of  the  presidents  and  professors 
of  the  various  colleges,  who  entertained  him  with 
a  courtesy  which  did  them  credit.  There  were 
other  men,  too,  better  known  than  these,  who 
lent  to  him  an  encouragement  that  was  no  small 
factor  in  helping  him  endure  heroically  the  strug- 
gles that  were  necessary  before  success  might  be 
gained.  In  New  York,  Dr.  Samuel  Mitchell,  and 
Scudder  of  the  American  Museum,  were  his 
friends,  and  Governor  De  W^itt  Clinton  both  ap- 
preciated him  in  life  and  took  pleasure  in  doing 
him  honor  after  death.  It  is  pleasing  to  note 
this,  for  it  is  another  Governor  of  New  York, 
Daniel  D.  Tompkins,  who  hurt  so  deeply  Wil- 
son's feelings  by  his  cold  treatment.  "He  turned 
over  a   few  pages,  looked  at  a  picture   or  two, 


76  ALEXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

asked  me  my  price,"  wrote  Wilson,  "and  while  in 
the  act  of  closing  the  book,  added,  'I  would  not 
give  a  hmidred  dollars  for  all  the  birds  you  in- 
tend to  describe,  even  had  I  them  alive.'  " 

With  F.  A.  Michaux,  the  Frenchman,  whose 
work  on  "American  Forest  Trees"  is  still  remem- 
bered, he  corresponded  and  kept  up  a  friendship, 
and  was  always  ready  to  assist  him  whenever  he 
could. 

Another  acquaintance  which  is  especially  inter- 
esting is  that  with  Tom  Paine.  Wilson  had  been 
in  his  earlier  days  an  ardent  advocate  of  repub- 
licanism and  Paine  was  to  him  then  quite  a  hero. 
As  early  as  1792  in  his  by  no  means  remarkable 
"Address  to  the  Synod  of  Glasgow  and  Ayr"  this 
verse  occurs: 

"The  'Rights  of  Man'  is  now  weel  kenned, 
And  read  by  mony  a  hunder ; 
For  Tammy  Paine  the  buik  has  penned, 
And  lent  the  Courts  a  lounder; 
It's  hke  a  keeking-glass  to  see 
The  craft  of  Kirk  and  statesmen; 
And  wi'  a  bauld  and  easy  glee 
Guid  faith  the  birky  beats  them 
Aff  hand  this  day." 

The  passing  of  years  cooled  his  blood  and  modi- 
fied, though  it  did  not  change,  his  opinions.  It 
is,  in  the  light  of  these  facts,  both  interesting  and 
gratifying  to  find  that  Wilson  in  1808  called  on 
Paine,  which  visit  he  himself  describes :  "While 
in  New  York  I  had  the  curiosity  to  call  on  the  cel- 
ebrated author  of  the  'Rights  of  Man.'  He  lives 
in  Greenwich,  a  short  way  from  the  city.  In  the 
only  decent-looking  apartment  of  a  small,  indiffer- 


WII.SON  AND  CONTEMPORARY  AMERICANS  'J'J 

ent-lookino^  frame  house,  I  found  this  extraordi- 
nary man,  sitting  wrapped  in  a  nightgown,  the 
table  before  him  covered  with  newspapers,  with 
pen  and  ink  beside  him.  Paine's  face  would  have 
excellently  suited  the  character  of  Bardolph;  but 
the  penetration  and  intelligence  of  his  eye  bespeaks 
the  man  of  genius,  and  of  the  world.  He  com- 
plained to  me  of  his  inability  to  walk,  an  exercise 
he  was  formerly  fond  of;  he  examined  my  book, 
leaf  by  leaf,  with  great  attention — desired  me  to 
put  his  name  down  as  a  subscriber,"  and  then  re- 
quested to  be  remembered  to  some  friends  that  he 
and  Wilson  had  in  common.  The  ornithologist 
remembered  the  meeting  with  evident  pleasure. 

From  Wilson's  letters  we  also  learn  that  he 
knew  General  Wade  Hampton  and  was  a  friend 
of  the  ill-fated  but  distinguished  Governor  of 
Louisiana,  Meriwether  Lewis  of  the  famous 
Lewis-Clark  Expedition.* 

It  was  in  the  winter  of  1808  in  Washington  that 
Wilson  first  met  General  James  Wilkinson,  and  a 
few  months  later  he  called  on  him  again  in 
Charleston,  South  Carolina,  and  received  from 
him  twelve  dollars  on  his  subscription  to  the  "Or- 
nithology," which  he  says  was  "the  first  fruits" 
of  his  project.  Whatever  may  have  been  the 
faults  and  failings  of  Wilkinson, — and  they  were 
perhaps  many, — he  deserves  some  charity  from 
us  for  this  deed  of  kindness  which  he  did  to  our 
first  American  ornithologist  when  he  so  much 
needed  encouragement. 

*  See    "History    of    the    Expedition    under    Command    of    Lewis    and 
Clark,"  by  Elliott  Coues;    Frances  P.  Harper,  New  York,  1893. 


yS  ALEXANDER  WILSON:    POET-NATURALIST 

The  letter  written  by  Wilkinson  to  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson, which  will  be  presently  given,  presents 
very  clearly  the  opinion  which  General  Wilkin- 
son held  of  the  ornithologist. 

The  relation  of  Wilson  with  Thomas  Jefferson 
has  been  dwelt  upon  with  emphasis  by  almost 
every  one  who  has  essayed  anything  at  all  on  the 
former,  and  the  fact  that  Wilson  seems  to  have 
received  no  reply  to  his  request  to  be  sent  with 
Pike  on  his  expedition  has  been  made  the  text 
of  violent  philippics  against  Jefferson  from  Wil- 
son's earliest  biographer,  George  Ord,  down 
through  the  list,  with  one  or  two  exceptions.  The 
letters,  which  are  published  here  for  the  first  time 
in  full,  throw  valuable  light  on  the  relations  which 
existed  between  these  two  remarkable  men.  Wil- 
son was  no  hero-worshiper;  on  the  contrary  he 
was  an  extremist  in  his  belief  in  the  equality  of 
man.  He  admired  Tom  Paine,  but  likened  his 
nose  to  that  of  Bardolph,  and  though  himself  hold 
ing  Washington  as  "our  country's  glory,  pride  and 
boast,"  he  was  amused  at  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  men  adored  him.  But  Jefferson  was  his 
hero  of  heroes :  "the  enlightened  philosopher, — 
the  distinguished  naturalist, — the  first  statesman 
on  earth,  the  friend,  the  ornament  of  science  *  '^ 
that  father  of  our  country,  the  faithful  guardian 
of  our  liberties" ;  how  could  he  but  love  him  with 
a  love  which  came  almost  to  worship,  since  after 
all  these  things  did  Wilson  most  earnestly  seek? 
To  him  he  was  "the  best  of  men"  and  at  his  re- 
election as  President  he  cried  out,  "This  day  the 
heart  of  every  republican,   of  every  good  man, 


WIIvSON  AND  CONTEMPORARY  AMERICANS  79 

within  the  immense  hmits  of  our  happy  country, 
will  leap  with  joy." 

At  this  time  Wilson  had  but  recently  returned 
from  his  trip  to  Niagara,  and,  knowing  Jefferson's 
enthusiastic  interest  in  science,  he  sent  him  a 
drawing  of  two  birds  with  which  he  had  met  for 
the  first  time,  "as  the  child  of  an  amiable  parent," 
he  wrote  to  Bartram,  "presents  to  its  affection- 
ate father  some  little  token  of  its  esteem."  The 
letter  which  accompanied  the  drawing  is  as  fol- 
lows: 

"Sir 

"I  beg  your  acceptance  of  a  small  trifle  in  Nat- 
ural History  which  though  imperfectly  executed 
is  offered  with  all  the  sincerity  of  affection  to  the 
best  Friend  and  brightest  ornament  of  this  happy 
country.  If  it  afford  you  a  moment's  amusement 
I  shall  think  myself  amply  rewarded. 

"On  my  return  from  a  visit  to  the  Falls  of  Ni- 
agara in  October  last  I  killed  two  birds  on  the 
shores  of  the  Mohawk  river  and  conceiving  them  to 
be  little  known,  particularly  the  Jay,  I  have  taken 
the  liberty  of  transmitting  under  favor  of  Mr. 
Bartram  as  faithful  a  sketch  of  them  as  I  was  ca- 
pable of  taking.  The  Jay  approaches  nearly  to  the 
Corviis  Canadensis  of  Linnaeus  and  Le  Geay  brun 
of  Buffon  dift'ering  however  in  the  color  and  ar- 
ticle of  crest  so  much  as  to  seem  to  be  a  distinct 
species.  From  several  other  birds  found  while 
on  the  same  Tour  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that 
many  subjects  still  remain  to  be  added  to  our  No- 
menclature in  the  Ornithology  of  the  middle  and 
northern  states. 


8o  AL^XANDE^R  WILSON:    POET-NATURAUST 

"Permit  me  now  to  ask  your  Excellency's  for- 
giveness for  this  intrusion.  Rejoicing  with  3 
grateful  country  on  the  prospects  of  reaping  the 
fruits  of  your  pre-eminent  services  for  many  years 
I  implore  Heaven  to  bless  and  preserve  a  life  so 
honourable  to  Science  and  so  valuable  to  the  Re- 
publican institutions  of  a  great  and  rapidly  in- 
creasing Empire  and  beg  leave  to  Subscribe  my- 
self 

"With  deepest  veneration, 
"Your  Excellency's  sincere   Friend 

and  humble  Servant 
"Aldx  Wilson." 
"Kingsess  March  i8th,  1805." 

The  President  responded  with  a  letter  full  of 
interest  and  courtesy  which  we  print  in  full : 

"Monticello  Apr.  7,  05. 
"Sir 

"I  received  here  yesterday  your  favor  of  March 
18,  with  the  elegant  drawings  of  the  new  birds 
you  found  on  your  tour  to  Niagara,  for  which  I 
pray  you  to  accept  my  thanks.  The  Jay  is  quite 
unknown  to  me,  from  my  observations  while  in 
Europe,  on  the  birds  &  quadrupeds  of  that  quar- 
ter, I  am  of  opinion  there  is  not  in  our  continent  a 
single  bird  or  quadruped  which  is  not  sufficiently 
unlike  all  the  members  of  it's  family  there  to  be 
considered  as  specifically  different,  on  this  gen- 
eral observation  I  conclude  with  confidence  that 
your  Jay  is  not  a  European  bird. 

"The  first  bird  on  the  same  sheet  I  judge  to 


WILSON  AND  CONTEMPORARY  AMERICANS  8l 

be  a  Muscicapa  from  it's  bill,  as  well  as  from  the 
following  circumstance.  Two  or  three  days  be- 
fore my  arrival  here  a  neighbor  killed  a  bird,  un- 
known to  him,  &  never  before  seen  here  as  far  as 
he  could  learn,  it  was  brought  to  me  soon  after  I 
arrived;  but  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  and  so 
putrid  that  it  could  not  be  approached  but  with 
disgust.  But  I  obtained  a  sufficiently  exact  idea 
of  it's  form  and  colours  to  be  satisfied  it  is  the 
same  with  yours,  the  only  difference  I  find  in 
yours  is  that  the  white  on  the  back  is  not  so  pure, 
and  that  the  one  I  saw  had  a  little  of  a  crest. 
Your  figure,  compared  with  the  white  bellied 
Gobemouche  8  Buff  342,  PI.  enlum  566  shews  a 
near  relation.     Buffon's  is  dark  on  the  back. 

"As  you  are  curious  in  birds  there  is  one  well 
worthy  your  attention,  to  be  found  or  rather 
heard  in  every  part  of  America,  &  yet  scarcely 
ever  to  be  seen.  It  is  in  all  the  forests  from  spring 
to  fall,  and  never  but  on  the  tops  of  the  tallest 
trees  from  which  it  perpetually  serenades  us  with 
some  of  the  sweetest  notes,  &  as  clear  as  those  of 
the  nightingale.  I  have  followed  it  miles  without 
ever  but  once  getting  a  good  view  of  it.  it  is  the 
size  and  make  of  the  Mocking  bird,  hghtly  thrush- 
colored  on  the  back,  &  a  grayish  white  on  the 
breast  &  belly,  mr.  Randolph,  my  son-in-law,  was 
in  possession  of  one  which  had  been  shot  by  a 
neighbor,  he  pronounced  this  also  a  Muscicapa, 
and  I  think  it  much  resembling  the  Moucherolle 
de  la  Martinique  8  Buffon  374  pi.  enlum  658.  as 
it  abounds  in  all  the  neighborhood  of  Philadelphia, 
6 


82  ALEXANDER  WIESON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

you  may  perhaps  by  patience  and  perseverance 
(of  which  much  will  be  requisite)  get  a  sight,  if 
not  possession  of  it. 

"I  have  for  20  years  interested  the  young 
sportsmen  of  my  neighborhood  to  shoot  me  one ; 
but  as  yet  without  success. 

"Accept  my  salutations  and  assurances  of  re- 
spect. 

"Th  :  Jei^i^erson" 

The  suggested  commission  at  the  close  of  this 
letter  was  received  by  Wilson  with  enthusiasm. 
He  wrote  at  once  to  Bartram  and  Duncan,  that 
their  efiforts  might  be  added  to  his  own  in  search- 
ing out  this  strange  bird,  and  after  a  long  and  ar- 
duous pursuit  it  was  found  that  the  naturalists 
had  been  misguided  by  Jefferson's  suggestion 
that  "it  was  never  found  but  on  the  tops  of  the 
tallest  trees"  and  the  bird  was  identified  as  the 
Wood  Robin,  which,  on  the  contrary,  is  so  often 
on  the  ground  as  to  give  it,  as  Ord  remarks,  one 
of  its  names,  the  Ground  Robin.  This  gave  Wil- 
son the  occasion  for  a  second  letter  to  Jefferson 
which,  from  its  nature,  did  not  require  an  answer. 
As  this  letter  has  not  hitherto  been  published  it  is 
printed  here. 

"Kingsess  Sep  30th  1805 
"Sir 

"I  had  the  honor  last  spring  of  presenting  your 
Excellency  with  drawings  of  two  birds  which  I 
supposed  to  be  nondescript  until  the  receipt  of 
your  very  condescending  Letter  to  me  of  Ap.  7th 
referring  to  8  Buffon  342  PI.  en  lum  566  which  I 


WIIvSON  AND  CONTEMPORARY  AMERICANS  83 

find  to  contain  a  Bird  of  the  same  Species  with 
one  of  those  sent  but  unnoticed  by  me  before. 
Allow  me  Sir  as  an  atonement  for  this  mistake  to 
beg  your  acceptance  of  another  sheet  of  Drawings 
being  my  poor  efforts  to  represent  faithfully  4 
of  our  most  capital  Songsters  among  which  is  (I 
believe)  the  Bird*  so  particularly  and  accurately 
described  in  your  Excellency's  letter  to  me.  This 
being  the  only  bird  I  can  find  among  all  our 
Songsters  corresponding  in  every  respect  with 
the  description  there  given.  The  clearness  and 
plaintive  sweetness  of  its  notes,  its  solitary  dis- 
position— continually  serenading  us  from  the  tops 
of  the  tallest  trees — its  colour,  size  and  resem- 
blance to  the  Moucherelle  de  la  Martinique  of 
Buffon,  as  observed  by  your  Excellency,  desig- 
nate this,  (and  my  friend  Mr.  Bartram  is  of  the 
same  opinion)  to  be  the  Bird  so  justly  esteemed 
by  your  Excellency. 

"Finding,  as  I  do,  an  innocent  and  delightful 
retreat  from  the  sometimes  harassing  business  of 
Life  in  our  Rural  Solitudes  I  have  employed  some 
of  my  leisure  hours  in  Drawing  many  of  these 
charming  Songsters  of  the  Grove  with  a  view  at 
some  future  day  of  publishing  in  a  more  finished 
manner  all  the  Birds  resident  in  or  which  Emi- 
grate to  the  United  States  from  the  South  & 
North.  May  I  hope  that  your  Excellency  will 
not  think  meanly  of  my  feeble  attempts  or  of  the 
motives  which  have  induced  me  to  intrude  at  this 
time  on  your  precious  hours  devoted  to  the  In- 

*  A  reference  is  given  here  to  the  numbering  of  the  figures   on  the 
plate. 


84  ALEXANDER  WILSON:    POET-NATURALIST 

terests  and  happiness  of  an  immense  Country. 
These  motives  are,  the  most  affectionate  regard 
and  veneration  for  your  Excellency  as  the  friend 
of  Science  and  the  'best  hope'  of  virtuous  Repub- 
licans ;  and  the  fond  but  humble  hope  of  meriting 
your  esteem. 

''Your  Excellency's  devoted  friend  and  humble 
Servt 

"Alex  Wilson." 

The  next  episode  is  the  one  which  has  oc- 
casioned so  much  bitter  criticism  from  Wilson's 
biographers.  Wilson,  seeing  in  the  newspapers 
that  Jefferson  designed  having  the  shores  of  the 
Mississippi  explored,  sought  to  persuade  William 
Bartram  to  apply  with  him  for  a  place  on  the  ex- 
pedition. Failing  in  this,  since  Bartram  thought 
himself  unable  to  endure  the  hardships  of  travel, 
he  enclosed  a  letter  of  recommendation  from  Bar- 
tram, who  knew  Mr.  Jefferson,  in  one  of  his  own, 
requesting  to  be  sent  on  "any  of  these  expedi- 
tions." Three  weeks  later  he  wrote  his  nephew 
that  he  had  heard  nothing  from  the  President  and 
remarked  that  "no  hurry  of  business  could  ex- 
cuse it,"  if  Mr.  Jefferson  received  the  letters. 
This  matter  is,  however,  now  explained  by  the  let- 
ters of  Jefferson  and  Wilkinson.  The  following 
note  shows  the  esteem  in  which  Jefferson  held 
Wilson  as  early  as  1807: 

"Th :  Jefferson  having  a  few  days  ago  only  re- 
ceived a  copy  of  the  printed  proposals  for  publish- 
ing a  work  on  American  ornithology  by  mr.  Wil- 


WILSON  AND  CONTEMPORARY  AMERICANS  85 

son,  begs  leave  to  become  a  subscriber  to  it,  sat- 
isfied it  will  give  us  valuable  new  matter  as  well 
as  correct  the  errors  of  what  we  possessed  before, 
he  salutes  mr,  Wilson  with  great  respect. 
''Washington  Oct.  9,  07." 

A  year  later  when  Wilson  was  in  Washington 
soliciting  subscribers  he  called  at  the  White 
House  to  see  the  President,  sending  in  the  fol- 
lowing note  to  announce  himself : 

"Alexander  Wilson,  author  of  'American  Orni- 
thology,' would  be  happy  to  submit  the  first  vol- 
ume of  this  work  to  the  inspection  of  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son, if  he  knew  when  it  would  be  convenient  for 
the  President. 

A.  WiivSON. 
"Saturday  Noon, 
"Endorsed:  Alexr  Wilson,  reed  Dec.  17,  08." 

Wilson  himself  thus  describes  his  reception  in 
a  letter  to  his  friend,  Mr.  D.  H.  Miller:  "The 
President  received  me  very  kindly.  I  asked  for 
nobody  to  introduce  me,  but  merely  sent  him  a 
line  that  I  was  there ;  when  he  ordered  me  to  be 
immediately  admitted.  He  has  given  me  a  letter 
to  a  gentleman  in  Virginia,  who  is  to  introduce 
me  to  a  person  there,  who,  Mr.  Jefferson  says, 
has  spent  his  whole  life  in  studying  the  manners 
of  our  birds ;  and  from  whom  I  am  to  receive  a 
world  of  facts  and  observations.  The  President 
intended  to  send  for  this  person  himself,  and  to 
take  down,  from  his  mouth,  what  he  knows  on  the 
subject,  thinking  it  a  pity,  as  he  says,  that  the 


86  AI^KXANDER  wii^son:    poet-naturaust 

knowledge  he  possesses  should  die  with  him.  But 
he  has  intrusted  the  business  to  me,  and  I  have 
promised  him  an  account  of  our  interview." 

Before  leaving  Washington  Wilson  wrote  the 
following  letter  to  the  President,  which,  as  far  as 
I  have  been  able  to  find,  is  the  last  one  which  has 
been  preserved  of  those  exchanged  between 
them. 

"Washington  City  Deer  24th  1808 
"Sir 

"The  person  who  is  the  Bearer  of  this,  has  in 
his  possession  specimens  of  Copper  Ore  found  in 
Orange  County,  State  of  Virginia,  which  he  is 
solicitous  to  show  to  the  President.  Considering 
this  discovery  (if  the  facts  be  as  he  states)  highly 
important  at  this  interesting  crisis  I  have  advised 
him  to  wait  on  you  without  delay. 

"I  have  succeeded,  tolerably,  among  the  gen- 
tlemen here,  in  procuring  subscriptions  to  my 
Publication;  and  leave  this  place  to-day.  I  shall 
remit  you  an  account  of  my  interview  with  Coffer, 
and  am,  with  consideration  of  high  respect, 
"Sir, 

"Your  obedt  Humble  Servt 
"Ai.e;x  W11.SON." 

Why  Jefferson  did  not  answer  Wilson's  letter 
in  reference  to  the  Pike  expedition  above  referred 
to  is  best  explained  by  the  supposition  that  he 
either  never  received  it  or  else  referred  it  to  Gen- 
eral Wilkinson,  who  had  entire  control  of  all  the 
arrangements  for  the  expedition  of  Lieutenant  Z. 


WII.SON  AND  CONTEMPORARY  AMERICANS  87 

M.  Pike.  Jefferson  carefully  preserved  every 
scrap  of  his  correspondence,  but  he  declared  on 
looking  over  his  papers  that  he  was  unable  to 
find  a  "scrip  of  the  pen"  on  the  subject.  More- 
over, Wilson  never  felt  the  slightest  bitterness 
against  Jefferson,  as  Ord  himself  states  he  never 
gave  expression  to  any  hurt  which  the  President's 
silence  caused  him. 

When  Ord's  life  of  Wilson  appeared  in  the  last 
volume  of  the  "American  Ornithology"  the  sharp 
criticism  of  Mr.  Jefferson's  neglect  came  to  the 
notice  of  Mr.  Jefferson  himself,  who  wrote  the 
following  letter  to  General  Wilkinson  in  regard 
to  the  matter: 

"Monticello  June  25,  '18. 
"Dear  General 

"A  life  so  much  employed  in  public  as  yours 
has  been,  must  subject  you  often  to  be  appealed 
to  for  facts  by  those  whom  they  concern — an  oc- 
casion occurs  to  myself  of  asking  this  kind  of  aid 
from  your  memory  and  documents,  the  posthu- 
mous volume  of  Wilson's  Ornithology,  altho' 
published  some  time  since,  never  happened  to  be 
seen  by  me  until  a  few  days  ago.  in  the  account 
of  his  life,  prefixed  to  that  volume  his  biographer 
indulges  himself  in  a  bitter  invective  against  me, 
as  having  refused  to  employ  Wilson  on  Pike's  ex- 
pedition to  the  Arkansas,  on  which  particularly  he 
wished  to  have  been  employed,  on  turning  to  my 
papers  I  have  not  a  scrip  of  the  pen  on  the  sub- 
ject of  that  expedition,  which  convinces  me  that 
it  was  not  one  of  those  which  emanated  from 


88         ai,e;xandi<:r  wilson:   poet-naturalist 

myself;  and  if  a  decaying  memory  does  not  de- 
ceive me  I  think  it  was  ordered  by  yourself  from 
St.  Louis,  while  Governor  and  military  com- 
mander there;  that  it  was  an  expedition  for 
reconnoitering  the  Indian  and  Spanish  positions 
which  might  be  within  striking  distance;  that 
so  far  from  being  an  expedition  admitting 
a  leisurely  and  scientific  examination  of  the  nat- 
ural history  of  the  country,  it's  movements  were 
to  be  on  the  alert,  and  too  rapid  to  be  accommo- 
dated to  the  pursuits  of  scientific  men ;  that  if  pre- 
viously communicated  to  the  Executive,  it  was 
not  in  time  for  them,  from  so  great  a  distance,  to 
have  joined  scientific  men  to  it;  nor  is  it  probable 
it  could  be  known  at  all  to  mr.  Wilson  and  to  have 
excited  his  wishes  and  expectations  to  join  it.  if 
you  will  have  the  goodness  to  consult  your  mem- 
ory and  papers  on  this  subject,  and  to  write  me 
the  result  you  will  greatly  oblige  me. 

"My  retirement  placed  me  at  once  in  such  a 
state  of  pleasing  freedom  and  tranquility,  that  I 
determined  never  more  to  take  any  concern  in 
public  affairs ;  but  to  consider  myself  merely  as  a 
passenger  in  the  public  vessel,  placed  under  the 
pilotage  of  others,  in  whom  too  my  confidence 
was  entire.  I  therefore  discontinued  all  corre- 
spondence on  public  subjects,  and  was  satisfied 
to  hear  only  so  much  as  true  or  false,  as  a  news- 
paper or  two  could  give  me.  in  these  I  some- 
times saw  matters  of  much  concern,  and  particu- 
larly that  of  your  retirement,  a  witness  myself 
of  the  merit  of  your  services  while  I  was  in  a  sit- 
uation to  know  and  to  feel  their  benefit,  I  made 


WII^SON  AND  CONTEMPORARY  AMERICANS  89 

no  enquiry  into  the  circumstances  which  termi- 
nated them,  whether  moving  from  yourself  or 
others,  with  the  assurances,  however,  that  my  es- 
timate of  their  value  remains  unaltered,  I  pray 
you  to  accept  that  of  my  great  and  continued  es- 
teem and  respect. 

"Th:  Jei^FERSON." 

General  Wilkinson's  letter  which  follows  shows 
conclusively  that  the  Pike  Expedition  was  under 
his  direction. 

"August  4th  18 1 8 
"Dear  Sir 

"Residing  as  I  do  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi seven  Leagues  below  N.  Orleans,  it  is  no 
matter  of  surprise  that  your  letter,  of  the  25th.  of 
June,  was  not  received  before  the  ist  Inst. 

"I  perceive  with  great  pleasure,  that  the  chaste 
harmony  which  has  distinguished  your  Pen  above 
all  others  of  our  Country  continues  unimpaired ; 
and  with  equal  satisfaction  do  I  receive  the  testi- 
mony of  approbation  &  esteem  which  it  conveys, 
to  an  humble  but  faithful  citizen,  who  has  been 
illy  requited  for  his  toils,  sufferings  and  sacrifices 
in  the  public  Service. 

"I  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  your  Letter 
merely  to  show  you  that  I  shall  fulfill  your  desire 
respecting  the  explorations  of  Capt.  Pike  under 
my  orders,  as  soon  as  indispensable  daily  labor 
may  allow  me  time  to  scrutinize  my  voluminous 
correspondence;  in  the  mean  time  memory  au- 
thorizes me  to  declare,  that,  under  a  verbal  per- 


90  ALEXANDER  WII^ON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

mission  from  you,  before  my  departure  from  the 
seat  of  Government  for  St.  Louis  in  the  Spring  of 
1805,  generally  to  explore  the  borders  of  the  Ter- 
ritory of  Louisiana  I  did  project  the  expeditions 
of  Capt.  Z.  M.  Pike  to  the  Head  of  the  Missis- 
sippi; and  after  his  return  from  the  excursion,  to 
restore  to  the  Nation  a  number  of  Osage  Indians, 
who  have  been  ransomed  under  my  authority, 
from  the  hostile  Tribes  by  whom  they  had  been 
captured;  to  make  peace  between  certain  Bellig- 
erous  Nations,  and  if  practicable  to  effect  an  in- 
terview with  and  conciliate  the  powerful  bands  of 
I.  C.  taws  or  Comanches  to  the  United  States. 
He  was  also  instructed  by  me  to  ascertain  the  ex- 
tent, direction,  and  navigableness  of  the  Arkan- 
sas and  Red  Rivers,  which  discharge  their  Waters 
in  the  Mississippi. 

"I  recollect  to  have  seen  Mr.  Wilson  the  orni- 
thologist, at  Washington  in  the  autumn  of  1808, 
and  at  Charlestown,  S.  C,  the  Winter  following; 
I  admired  his  Enterprise,  perseverance  and  ca- 
pacity and  had  several  conversations  with  Him 
concerning  the  Work  he  had  undertaken,  which  I 
was  desirous  to  promote  with  my  humble  means; 
He  made  various  enquiries  respecting  the  feath- 
ered creation  of  this  region,  and  instructed  me 
how  to  preserve  in  dead  Birds  their  living  appear- 
ance ;  But  I  do  not  remember  that  Capt.  Pike  or 
his  expeditions  were  alluded  to,  and  the  details  of 
that  unfortunate  meritorious  young  Soldier's 
Western  Tour  published  by  himself,  will  best  ex- 
plain its  utter  inaptitude  to  the  deliberate  investi- 
gations of  the  naturalist. 


WII<SON  AND  CONTEMPORARY  AMERICANS  9I 

"With  my  best  wishes  for  your  continued 
Health  and  tranquihty,  and  in  the  Hope  that  you 
may  still  be  made  the  instrument  to  arrest  the 
sinister  cause  of  our  politics,  and  recall  the  Re- 
public to  its  original  purity,  I  beg  you  to  be  as- 
sured of  my  high  respect  and  attachment. 

"Ja:  Wilkinson." 

These  letters,  which  I  believe  have  never  before 
been  published,  should  be  enough  to  establish  that 
instead  of  Jefferson's  being  "forgetful  alike  of  the 
duties  of  his  station,  and  the  common  courtesies 
of  life"  and  refusing  "encouragement  to  the  cul- 
tivation of  science  and  literature" ;  so  far  was  he 
from  losing  "the  opportunity  of  having  won  him- 
self imperishable  honour,  by  patronizing  a  man 
of  true  genius,  of  nature's  own  nobility — the  high 
nobility  of  mind,"  he  on  the  contrary  was  among 
Wilson's  first  subscribers,  received  him  with  cour- 
tesy and  attention,  and  even  after  his  death  wrote 
to  his  son-in-law,  Joseph  Coolidge,  in  1825,  re- 
questing him  to  endeavor  to  have  a  new  octavo 
edition  of  Wilson's  Ornithology  published  in  Bos- 
ton; a  further  indication  of  his  high  opinion  of 
the  man  and  his  work.  It  has  been  many  years 
since  the  last  biography  of  Alexander  Wilson  was 
written,  and  it  is  now  high  time  that  instead  of 
condemning  Jefferson  for  an  apparent  breach  of 
courtesy,  the  circumstances  of  which  we  do  not 
thoroughly  know,  we  should  render  him  all  honor 
for  the  real  encouragement  which  he  gave  the 
naturalist,  an  encouragement  which,  to  Wilson, 
was  no  small  matter. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   COMPIvETlON   OF   THE   ORNITHOEOGY 

We  return  now  to  the  story  of  Wilson's  endeav- 
ors to  carry  out  his  great  plan,  at  the  point  where 
we  left  off  at  the  end  of  our  fourth  chapter.  How 
much  the  publication  of  the  first  volume  of  the 
Ornithology  meant  to  Wilson  as  encouragement 
in  his  work  and  as  a  stimulus  to  increased  exer- 
tions it  is  impossible  to  estimate,  but  its  moral 
effect  was  doubtless  great.  He  was  no  longer  to 
be  regarded  as  a  mere  dreamer,  for  in  part  his 
promise  had  been  kept ;  he  had  shown  his  ability 
to  carry  his  plan  through. 

His  eagerness  to  send  the  next  volume  to  the 
press  was  almost  feverish,  and  by  the  fall  of  1809 
it  was  ready  for  the  engraver,  though  nearly  a  year 
elapsed  before  it  appeared.  In  the  mean  while, 
Wilson  was  eagerly  searching  out  the  habits  of 
every  bird  with  which  he  met,  using  every  possible 
means  to  unravel  the  knots  that  perplexed  him. 
He  lost  no  opportunity  of  catechising  every  one 
with  whom  he  came  into  contact;  President  Jeffer- 
son, General  Wilkinson,  John  Abbott,  the  student 
of  insect  life  in  Savannah,  Georgia;  Michaux, 
whose  work  on  "American  Forest  Trees"  so  much 
interested  him;  Bishop  Madison  of  Virginia;  his 
own  nephew,  William  Duncan;  Peale,  of  Philadel- 
phia, and  chief  of  all,  his  old  friend  William  Bar- 
tram,  he  interested  in  his  studies  and  from  them  all 
drew  what  help  and   information   he  could.     The 


COMPLETION  OF  THE  ORNITHOLOGY  93 

earnest  enthusiasm  of  the  man  was  contagious,  and 
from  all  over  the  country  came  letters,  drawings, 
and  sketches  from  people  whose  interest  in  birds 
had  been  awakened  by  him. 

The  drawings  were  not  such  that  he  could  make 
actual  use  of  them  in  his  book,  nor  were  the  obser- 
vations or  the  skins  of  birds  which  were  sent  to  him 
often  of  much  worth,  but  they  all  served  as  so  much 
evidence  by  which  he  could  make  comparisons  with 
what  he  himself  had  collected,  and  these  things  thus 
made  it  possible  for  him  to  examine  his  data  very 
critically. 

Soon  he  had  exhausted  his  collected  materials 
and  was  determined  on  another  journey.  His 
travels  this  time  were  to  extend  from  Pittsburg  to 
Florida  through  the  interior.  On  this  trip  he  again 
hoped  to  be  accompanied  by  his  old  friend,  William 
Bartram,  but  once  more  Bartram's  advancing  years 
made  it  scarcely  possible  for  him  to  endure  such 
hardships,  and  Wilson  set  out  alone.  After  consid- 
ering the  three  modes  of  travel  open  to  him,  by 
horse-back,  by  stage-coach  or  on  foot,  he  finally 
decided  that  walking  was  better  adapted  to  both  his 
observations  and  his  pocket-book — he  figured  that 
he  could  thus  keep  his  expenses  down  to  an  average 
of  a  dollar  a  day.  Accordingly,  he  began  his  jour- 
ney, first  stopping  at  Lancaster,  Pennsylvania, 
where  the  Governor  subscribed  to  his  book. 
Columbia  proved  a  fruitless  field,  and  after  crossing 
the  Susquehanna,  through  the  floating  ice,  he 
reached  York.  At  Hanover  "a  certain  judge  took 
upon  himself  to  say,  that  such  a  book  *  *  * 
ought  not  to  be  encouraged,  as  it  was  not  within  the 


94  ALEXANDER  WIESON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

reach  of  the  commonaHty;  and  therefore  incon- 
sistent with  our  repubhcan  institutions,"  After  a 
serious  disputation  with  Wilson,  however,  in  which 
Wilson  proved  him  "a  greater  culprit  *  *  * 
in  erecting  a  large  three-story  brick  house  so  much 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  commonality,  as  he  called 
them,  and  consequently  contrary  to  our  republican 
institutions,"  this  "Solomon  of  the  Bench  *  * 
began  to  show  such  symptoms  of  intellect  as  to 
seem  ashamed  of  what  he  said."  From  here,  Wil- 
son visited  Chambersburg  and  the  College  at  Car- 
lisle and  reached  Pittsburg  on  the  15th  of  February, 
1 8 10.  The  journey,  save  for  its  fatigue,  was  one 
of  great  enjoyment  to  him,  and  his  chief  regret  was 
that  he  could  not  share  it  with  his  friends.  At 
Pittsburg  he  put  his  baggage  into  a  little  skiff,  and 
on  February  23,  after  writing  his  farewell  and 
blessing  to  his  Philadelphia  friends,  he  shoved  off 
his  boat,  which  he  had  named  the  "Ornithologist," 
into  the  ice-encumbered  river,  for  Cincinnati.  Not 
until  April  4  did  he  write  from  Lexington,  Ken- 
tucky, which  was  the  second  stage  of  his  bird- 
catching  expedition.  Of  his  journey  on  leaving 
Pittsburg  he  wrote: 

"Though  generally  dissuaded  from  venturing  by 
myself  on  so  long  a  voyage  down  the  Ohio  in  an 
open  skiff,  I  considered  this  mode,  with  all  its  incon- 
veniences, as  the  most  favourable  to  my  researches 
and  the  most  suitable  to  my  funds,  and  I  determined 
accordingly.  Two  days  before  my  departure,  the 
Alleghany  River  was  one  wide  torrent  of  broken 
ice,  and  I  calculated  on  experiencing  considerable 
difficulties  on  this  score.     My  stock  of  provisions 


COMPLETION  01?  THK  ORNlTHOIvOGY  95 

consisted  of  some  biscuit  and  cheese,  and  a  bottle 
of  cordial  presented  me  by  a  gentleman  of  Pitts- 
burg; my  gun,  trunk  and  great-coat  occupied  one 
end  of  the  boat ;  I  had  a  small  tin  occasionally  to 
bale  her,  and  to  take  my  beverage  from  the  Ohio 
with;  and  bidding  adieu  to  the  smoky  confines  of 
Pittsburg,  I  launched  into  the  stream,  and  soon 
winded  away  among  the  hills  that  everywhere  en- 
close this  noble  river.  The  weather  was  warm  and 
serene,  and  the  river  like  a  mirror  except  where  the 
floating  masses  of  ice  spotted  its  surface,  and  which 
required  some  care  to  steer  clear  of;  but  these  to 
my  surprise,  in  less  than  a  day's  sailing,  totally  dis- 
appeared. Far  from  being  concerned  at  my  new 
situation,  I  felt  my  heart  expand  with  joy  at  the 
novelties  which  surrounded  me;  I  listened  with 
pleasure  to  the  whistling  of  the  Red-bird  on  the 
banks  as  I  passed,  and  contemplated  the  forest  scen- 
ery as  it  receded,  with  increasing  delight.  The 
smoke  of  the  numerous  sugar-camps,  rising  lazily 
among  the  mountains,  gave  great  effect  to  the  vary- 
ing landscape;  and  the  grotesque  log-cabins,  that 
here  and  there  opened  from  the  woods,  were  dimin- 
ished into  mere  dog-houses  by  the  sublimity  of  the 
impending  mountains.  If  you  suppose  to  yourself 
two  parallel  ranges  of  forest-covered  hills,  whose 
irregular  summits  are  seldom  more  than  three  or 
four  miles  apart,  winding  through  an  immense  ex- 
tent of  country,  and  enclosing  a  river  half  a  mile 
wide,  which  alternately  washes  the  steep  declivity 
on  one  side,  and  laves  a  rich  flat  forest-clad  bottom 
on  the  other,  of  a  mile  or  so  in  breadth,  you  will 
have  a  pretty  correct  idea  of  the  appearance  of  the 


96  AI,EXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

Ohio.  The  banks  of  these  rich  flats  are  from 
twenty  to  sixty  and  eighty  feet  high,  and  even  these 
last  were  within  a  few  feet  of  being  overflowed  in 
December,  1808. 

"I  now  stripped,  with  alacrity,  to  my  new  avoca- 
tion. The  current  went  about  two  and  a  half  miles 
an  hour,  and  I  added  about  three  and  a  half  miles 
more  to  the  boat's  way  with  my  oars.  In  the 
course  of  the  day  I  passed  a  number  of  arks,  or,  as 
they  are  usually  called,  Kentucky  boats,  loaded, 
with  what  it  must  be  acknowledged  are  the  most 
valuable  commodities  of  the  country :  viz.  men, 
women,  and  children,  horses  and  ploughs,  flour, 
millstones,  &c.  Several  of  these  floating  caravans 
were  loaded  with  store  goods  for  the  supply  of  the 
settlements  through  which  they  passed,  having  a 
counter  erected,  shawls,  muslins,  &c.,  displayed, 
and  everything  ready  for  transacting  business.  On 
approaching  a  settlement  they  blow  a  horn  or  tin 
trumpet,  which  announces  to  the  inhabitants  their 
arrival.  I  boarded  many  of  these  arks,  and  felt 
much  interested  at  the  sight  of  so  many  human 
beings,  migrating  like  birds  of  passage  to  the  lux- 
uriant regions  of  the  south  and  west.  The  arks  are 
built  in  the  form  of  a  parallelogram,  being  from 
twelve  to  fourteen  feet  wide,  and  from  forty  to 
seventy  feet  long,  covered  above,  rowed  only  occa- 
sionally by  two  oars  before,  and  steered  by  a  long 
and  powerful  one  fixed  above.     *     *     * 

"The  barges  are  taken  up  along  shore  by  setting 
poles,  at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  or  so  a  day;  the 
arks  cost  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  cents  per 
foot,   according  to   their   length;    and  when  they 


COMPIvDTlON  OF  THi:  ORNITHOI^OGY  97 

reach  their  places  of  destination,  seldom  bring  more 
than  one-sixth  their  original  cost.  These  arks  de- 
scend from  all  parts  of  the  Ohio  and  its  tributary 
streams,  the  Alleghany,  Monongahela,  Muskingum, 
Scioto,  Miami,  Kentucky,  Wabash,  &c.,  in  the 
months  of  March,  April  and  May  particularly,  with 
goods,  produce  and  emigrants,  the  two  former  for 
markets  along  the  river,  or  at  New  Orleans,  the 
latter  for  various  parts  of  Kentucky,  Ohio,  and  the 
Indiana  Territory.  I  now  return  to  my  own  expedi- 
tion. I  rowed  twenty  odd  miles  this  first  spell,  and 
found  I  should  be  able  to  stand  it  perfectly  well. 
About  an  hour  after  night  I  put  up  at  a  miserable 
cabin,  fifty-two  miles  from  Pittsburg,  where  I  slept 
on  what  I  supposed  to  be  corn-stalks,  or  something 
worse ;  so  preferring  the  smooth  bosom  of  the  Ohio 
to  this  brush  heap,  I  got  up  long  before  day,  and, 
being  under  no  apprehension  of  losing  my  way,  I 
again  pushed  out  into  the  stream.  The  landscape 
on  each  side  lay  in  one  mass  of  shade,  but  the 
grandeur  of  the  projecting  headlands  and  vanishing 
points,  or  lines,  was  charmingly  reflected  in  the 
smooth  glassy  surface  below.  I  could  only  dis- 
cover when  I  was  passing  a  clearing,  by  the  crow- 
ing of  cocks ;  and  now  and  then,  in  more  solitary 
places,  the  big-horned  owl  made  a  most  hideous 
hollowing,  that  echoed  among  the  mountains.  In 
this  lonesome  manner,  with  full  leisure  for  obser- 
vation and  reflection,  exposed  to  hardships  all  day, 
and  hard  berths  all  night,  to  storms  of  rain,  hail 
and  snow,  for  it  froze  severely  almost  every  night, 
I  persevered  from  the  24th  of  February  to  Sunday 
7 


98  ALEXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

evening,  March  17th,  when  I  moored  my  skiff 
safely  in  Bear-Grass  Creek,  at  the  rapids  of  the 
Ohio,  after  a  voyage  of  seven  hundred  and  twenty 
miles.  My  hands  suffered  the  most ;  and  it  will  be 
some  weeks  yet  before  they  recover  their  former 
feeling  and  flexibility." 

Steubenville,  Charlestown  and  Wheeling,  where 
he  stopped  to  visit  friends,  broke  for  a  while  the 
hardships  of  his  voyage.  At  Marietta  he  met  the 
son  of  General  Israel  Putnam,  and  later  he  viewed 
Blennerhassett's  Island  by  the  light  of  burning 
brush.  At  last  the  weather  became  so  severe,  since 
it  was  snowing  hard,  that  he  landed  on  the  Ken- 
tucky shore  and  made  his  way  to  a  cabin  near  at 
hand,  where  he  was  entertained  with  stories  of 
bear-treeing,  wolf-trapping  and  wild-cat  hunting  by 
the  old  hunter,  while  "all  night  long  the  howling  of 
wolves  kept  the  dogs  in  a  perpetual  uproar  of  bark- 
ing." As  he  went  on  down  the  river  in  his  boat,  he 
turned  aside  frequently  to  examine  rocks  or  to  in- 
quire about  fossils ;  he  was  always  eager  for  any- 
thing interesting  to  the  scientist.  It  was  a  welcome 
sight  to  him  when  he,  in  the  midst  of  a  raging 
storm,  saw  at  last  the  houses  of  Cincinnati,  which 
he  declared  the  "neatest  and  handsomest  situated 
place"  with  which  he  had  met  since  leaving  Phila- 
delphia. Nevertheless,  soon  he  was  in  the  Orni- 
thologist again,  and  on  the  very  first  afternoon  he 
rowed  twenty  miles  before  he  rested.  The  weather 
w^as  bad,  it  was  raining  hard,  and  his  "great-coat" 
was  used  to  cover  his  bird-skins,  so  that  all  which 
he  had  to  protect  himself  with  against  the  cold  was 
a  bottle  of  wine  that  he  soon  emptied,  drinl^ing  the 


I 


COMPLItTION  OF  THE  ORNITHOLOGY  99 

healths  of  his  friends.  When  he  landed  ncar 
Louisville  in  the  night,  he  had  to  grope  his  way  up 
to  the  town  through  a  miry  swamp.  The  next  day 
he  sold  his  skiff  for  just  half  what  he  had  paid  for  it 
to  a  man  who  wondered  why  he  had  given  it  such  a 
"droll  Indian  name"  as  the  "Ornithologist."  With 
that  diligence  which  only  a  scientist  knows,  he 
traversed  all  the  country  around,  sometimes  with 
his  book  under  his  arm,  sometimes  with  both  book 
and  gun,  but  more  often  it  was  with  the  gun  alone 
that  he  went,  seeking  specimens  of  unusual  or 
familiar  birds. 

At  Cincinnati  he  had  met  with  poor  success ;  the 
people  told  him  they  would  "think  about  it"  when 
he  asked  them  to  subscribe.  "They  are,"  he  says, 
"a  very  thoughtful  people."  At  Louisville  his  re- 
ception was  no  warmer.  In  his  whole  trip  through 
Kentucky  he  secured  only  fifteen  subscribers,  for 
the  country  was  new  and  had  little  time  to  spare  on 
works  of  science  or  of  leisure. 

It  was  in  Louisville  that  there  occurred  the 
famous  first  meeting  between  Wilson  and  the  after- 
ward distinguished  John  James  Audubon,  who  was 
then  engaged  in  business  in  that  city.  Audubon 
gave  this  account  of  their  meeting,  which  took  place 
in  March,  1810: 

"One  fair  morning  I  was  surprised  by  the  en- 
trance into  our  counting-room  of  Mr.  Alexander 
Wilson,  the  celebrated  author  of  the  'American  Or- 
nithology,' of  whose  existence  I  had  never,  until 
that  moment,  been  apprized.  This  happened  in 
1810.  *  *  *  fje,  however,  proceeded  imme- 
diately to  disclose  the  object  of  his  visit,  which  was 


lOO  AI^EXANDIiR  \VII.SON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

to  procure  subscriptions  for  his  work.  He  opened 
his  books,  explained  the  nature  of  his  occupations, 
and  requested  my  patronage. 

"I  felt  surprised  and  gratified  at  the  sight  of  his 
volumes,  turned  over  a  few  of  the  plates,  and  had 
already  taken  a  pen  to  write  my  name  in  his  favour, 
when  my  partner  rather  abruptly  said  to  me  in 
French :  "My  dear  Audubon,  what  induces  you  to 
subscribe  to  the  work?  Your  drawings  are  cer- 
tainly far  better ;  and  again,  you  must  know  as 
much  of  the  habits  of  American  birds  as  this  gentle- 
man.' Whether  Mr.  Wilson  understood  French 
or  not,  or  if  the  suddenness  with  which  I  paused  dis- 
appointed him,  I  cannot  tell ;  but  I  clearly  perceived 
that  he  was  not  pleased.  Vanity  and  the  encomium 
of  my  friend  prevented  me  from  subscribing.  Mr. 
Wilson  asked  me  if  I  had  any  drawings  of  birds.  I 
arose,  took  down  a  large  folio,  laid  it  on  the  table 
and  showed  him  the  whole  of  the  contents.  His 
surprise  appeared  great,  as  he  told  me  that  he  never 
had  the  most  distant  idea  that  any  other  individual 
than  himself  had  been  engaged  in  the  forming  of 
such  a  collection.  He  asked  me  if  it  was  my  inten- 
tion to  publish,  and  when  I  answered  in  the  nega- 
tive, his  surprise  seemed  to  increase.  And,  truly, 
such  was  not  my  intention;  for  until  long  after, 
when  I  met  the  Prince  of  Musignano,  in  Philadel- 
phia, I  had  not  the  least  idea  of  presenting  the 
fruits  of  my  labor  to  the  world.  Mr.  Wilson  next 
examined  my  drawings  with  care,  asked  if  I  should 
have  any  objections  to  lend  him  a  few  during  his 
stay;  to  which  I  replied  that  I  had  none.  He  then 
bade  me  good  morning,  not,  however,  until  I  had 


COMPLETION  OF  THE  ORNITHOEOGY  lOI 

made  an  arrangement  to  explore  the  woods  in  the 
vicinity  along  with  him,  and  had  promised  to  pro- 
cure him  some  birds  of  which  I  had  drawings  in 
my  collection,  but  which  he  had  never  seen. 

"It  happened  that  he  lodged  at  the  same  house 
with  us  (at  Louisville),  but  his  retired  habits,  I 
thought,  exhibited  either  a  strong  feeling  of  discon- 
tent, or  a  decided  melancholy.  The  Scotch  airs, 
which  he  played  sweetly  on  his  flute,  made  me  mel- 
ancholy too,  and  I  felt  for  him.  Seeing  that  he  was 
all  enthusiasm,  I  exerted  myself  as  much  as  was  in 
my  power  to  procure  for  him  the  specimens  which 
he  wanted.  We  hunted  together  and  obtained 
birds  which  he  had  never  before  seen ;  but,  Reader, 
I  did  not  subscribe  to  his  work,  for  even  at  that  time 
my  collection  was  larger  than  his.  *  *  * 
Before  many  days  elapsed,  he  left  Louisville  on  his 
way  to  New  Orleans,  little  knowing  how  much  his 
talents  were  appreciated  in  our  small  town,  at  least 
by  myself  and  my  friends." 

Wilson's  own  diary  has  the  following  entries 
concerning  his  stay  in  Louisville:  "March  19 — 
Rambled  round  the  town  with  my  gun.  Examined 
Mr.  Audubon's  drawings  in  crayons.  Very  good. 
Saw  two  new  birds  he  had — both  Matacillae." 
"March  21  \\^ent  out  this  afternoon  with  Mr.  A. 
Saw  a  number  of  Sandhill  Cranes.  Pigeons  num- 
erous." "March  23 — Packed  my  things  which  I 
left  in  care  of  a  merchant  here  to  be  sent  on  to  Lex- 
ington ;  and  having  parted,  with  great  regret  with 
my  paroquet  to  the  gentleman  of  the  tavern,  I  bade 
adieu  to  Louisville,  to  which  place  I  had  four  letters 
of  introduction,  and  was  taught  to  expect  much  of 


I02  ALEXANDER  WILSON:    POET-NATURAUST 

everything  there;  but  never  received  one  act  of 
courtesy  from  those  to  whom  I  was  recommended, 
one  subscriber,  nor  one  new  bird;  though  I  de- 
Hvered  my  letters,  ransacked  the  woods  repeatedly, 
and  visited  all  the  characters  likely  to  subscribe." 

The  words  of  the  two  men  are  in  part  contradic- 
tory. Which  are  we  to  believe?  Robert  Bu- 
chanan, who  was  commissioned  by  Mrs.  Audubon 
to  write  her  husband's  life,  says,  "We  must  take 
Audubon's  account  cum  grano  salis."  On  the 
other  hand,  the  poet-naturalist,  John  Burroughs,* 
takes  Audubon's  side  in  the  matter.  "Wilson,"  he 
writes,  "was  of  a  nature  far  less  open  and  generous 
than  was  Audubon.  It  is  evident  that  he  looked 
upon  the  latter  as  his  rival  and  was  jealous  of  his 
superior  talents;  for  superior  they  were  in  many 
ways."  We  doubt  if  Mr.  Burroughs  would  hold 
to  the  charge  he  has  made  here  against  Wilson,  on 
more  careful  consideration.  In  case  after  case  Mr. 
Burroughs  himself  cautions  his  readers  that  certain 
statements  of  Audubon's  must,  to  use  Buchanan's 
expression,  be  taken  "cum  grano  salis/'  In  speak- 
ing of  one  story  he  even  suggests  that  it  is  made 
"out  of  the  whole  cloth"  by  Audubon  and  never  oc- 
curred at  all.  If  this  be  the  case,  why  should  we  ac- 
cept Audubon's  word  in  preference  to  Wilson's, 
with  whom  accuracy  and  honesty  were  notable  char- 
acteristics? Mr.  Burroughs  also  bears  witness  that 
Wilson  was  Atidubon's  "equal,  if  not  his  superior" 
in  accuracy  of  observation. 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  too,  that  Wilson's  diary 
was  written  at  the  time  and  sent  in  a  letter  to  a 

*  John  James  Audubon  by  John  Burroughs. 


coMPi;eTioN  OF  the;  ornithology  103 

friend — who  apparently  did  not  even  know  Audu- 
bon— without  the  shghtest  idea  of  its  ever  being 
pubHshed,  while  Audubon's  account  was  written 
after  Wilson's  death,  after  he  had  seen  Wilson's 
diary,  and  was  in  defense  of  his  own  action  at  the 
time.  Appearances  are  certainly  in  favor  of  Wil- 
son. Moreover,  why  should  Wilson  have  been 
jealous  of  Audubon,  or  have  regarded  him  as  a 
rival,  when  he  had  Audubon's  own  assurance  that 
he  did  not  intend  publication,  whereas  the  second 
volume  of  Wilson's  work  was  already  in  the  press  ? 
On  the  other  hand,  that  x\udubon  did  regard  Wil- 
son as  a  rival  was  evidenced  later.  When  three 
new  editions  of  the  ''Ornithology"  were  to  be  pub- 
lished in  Edinburgh,  Audubon  heard  of  it  and  very 
naturally  ''set  to  work  vigorously  to  get  his  book 
out  before  them."  Audubon  evidently  felt  great 
interest  in  Wilson  after  his  death  and  took  him  for 
his  guide.  At  a  Buffalo  hotel  he  wrote  after  his 
name,  "Who,  like  Wilson,  will  ramble,  but  never, 
like  that  great  man,  die  under  the  lash  of  a  book- 
seller." When  traveling  in  Great  Britain  through 
York,  Leeds,  and  other  places,  he  remarked,  "How 
often  I  thought  during  these  visits  of  poor  Alex- 
ander Wilson."  Words  of  praise  for  a  dead  man 
are  cheap;  deeds  of  kindness  to  a  live  one  cost 
more.  When  Alexander  Wilson  was  traveling 
under  every  hardship,  giving  his  life  for  science, 
Audubon,  then  a  well-to-do  business  man,  let  his 
paltry  vanity  restrain  his  first  impulse  to  help  him; 
Wilson  understood  his  action  and  his  sensitive  na- 
ture was  hurt.  This  is  the  whole  matter,  and  with 
all  of  Audubon's  greatness  and  all  his  achievements, 


I04         AI^DXANDER  WIlvSON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

credit  should  be  given  where  credit  is  due,  and  Wil- 
son will  be  cleared  from  the  imputation  of  littleness 
and  falsehood. 

After  leaving  Louisville  Wilson  passed  on 
through  Shelbyville  and  Frankfort  to  Lexington, 
where  he  spent  some  most  pleasant  days.  He  was 
introduced  among  the  substantial  people  of  the 
place  and  was  charmed  with  the  ladies  that  he  met. 
The  town  itself  he  criticised  severely,  but  prophesied 
that  all  its  faults  would  be  corrected  by  time,  and 
declared  the  place  a  "monument  of  the  enterprise, 
courage  and  industry  of  its  inhabitants."  On  his 
way  from  Lexington  to  Nashville  (about  thirteen 
miles  from  the  latter  place)  he  met  with  the  rare  case 
of  a  landlord  who  refused  to  accept  pay  for  his 
lodgings.  This  hospitable  man,  of  the  good  name 
of  Isaac  Walton,  declared  that  since  Wilson  was 
traveling  for  the  good  of  the  world  he  should  pay 
nothing  whenever  he  stopped  at  his  place.  Blessed 
be  his  honorable  memory! 

At  Nashville  Wilson  wrote  so  interesting  a  letter 
to  his  fiancee.  Miss  Sarah  Miller,  that  it  is  worthy 
of  being  quoted  in  full.  It  reveals  the  restraint 
which  Wilson  held  upon  himself  as  a  lover,  as  well 
as  the  fact  that  he  was  among  the  earliest  of  aboli- 
tionists in  sympathies.  It  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  in 
reading  any  of  Wilson's  letters,  however,  that  he 
was  always  too  apt  to  judge  a  whole  people  by  the 
few  examples  that  he  might  meet  with.  He  was, 
though,  perfectly  impartial  in  his  criticisms.  New 
England,  Georgia,  Virginia,  Kentucky,  New  Jer- 
sey, the  legislature  of  his  own  State,  all  come  almost 
equally  under  the  stroke  of  his  lash.     Wherever  he 


COMPLETION  01^  THE  ORNITHOLOGY  IO5 

thinks  he  sees  an  evil  he  bitterly  denounces  it  in 
writing  to  his  friends.     His  letter  reads : 

"Nashville,  May  i,  1810. 
"To  Miss  Sarah  Miller : 

"My  Dear  Friend,  Nine  hundred  miles  distant 
from  you  sits  Wilson,  the  hunter  of  birds'  nests  and 
sparrows,  just  preparing  to  enter  on  a  wilderness  of 
780  miles — most  of  it  in  the  territory  of  Indians — 
alone  but  in  good  spirits,  and  expecting  to  have 
every  pocket  crammed  with  skins  of  new  and  ex- 
traordinary birds  before  he  reach  the  City  of  New 
Orleans.  I  dare  say  you  have  long  ago  accused  me 
of  cruel  forgetfulness  in  not  writing  as  I  promised, 
but  that,  I  assure  you,  was  not  the  cause.  To  have 
forgot  my  friends  in  the  midst  of  strangers,  and  to 
have  forgot  you  of  all  others,  would  have  been  im- 
possible. But  I  still  waited  until  I  should  have 
something  very  interesting  to  amuse  you  with,  and 
am  oDliged  at  last  to  take  up  the  pen  without  having 
anything  remarkable  to  tell  you  of.  Yet  I  don't 
know  but  a  description  of  the  fashions  of  Kentucky 
or  Paris.  What  would  you  think  of  a  blanket  rid- 
ing dress,  a  straw  side-saddle,  and  a  large  mule 
with  ears  so  long  that  they  might  almost  serve  for 
would  be  almost  as  entertaining  as  that  of  London 
reins?  I  have  seen  many  such  fashionable  figures 
in  Kentucky.  Or,  what  think  you  of  a  beau  who 
had  neither  been  washed  nor  shaved  for  a  month, 
with  three  yards  of  coarse  blue  cloth  wrapped 
around  his  legs  by  way  of  boots,  a  ragged  great- 
coat, without  coat,  jacket  or  neckcloth,  and  breath- 
ing the  rich  perfume  of  corn  whiskey?     Such  fig- 


I06         ALEXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

iires  are  quite  fashionable  in  Kentucky.  This  is  a 
charming  country  for  ladies.  From  the  time  they 
are  first  able  to  handle  a  cow  skin,  there  is  no  amuse- 
ment they  are  so  fond  of  as  flogging  their  negroes 
and  negro  wenches.  This  they  do  with  so  much 
coolness  and  seeming  satisfaction,  that  it  really 
gives  them  an  air  of  great  dignity  and  manliness. 
The  landlady  of  the  tavern  where  I  lodge  is  a  great 
connoisseur  at  this  sort  of  play;  and  while  others 
apply  their  cow  skins  only  to  the  back,  she  has  dis- 
covered that  the  shins,  elbows  and  knuckles  are  far 
more  sensitive,  and  produce  more  agonizing 
screams  and  greater  convulsions  in  the  'black 
devils,'  as  she  calls  them,  than  any  other  place.  My 
heart  sickens  at  such  barbarous  scenes,  and,  to 
amuse  you,  I  will  change  to  some  more  agreeable 
subject. 

"In  passing  from  Lexington  to  Nashville — a  dis- 
tance of  200  miles — I  overtook  on  the  road  a  man 
mending  his  stirrup-leathers,  who  walked  around 
my  horse  several  times  and  observed  that  I  seemed 
to  be  armed.  I  told  him  I  was  well  armed  with 
gun  and  pistols,  but  I  hoped  he  was  not  afraid  to 
travel  with  me  on  that  account,  as  I  should  be  better 
able  to  assist  in  defending  him  as  well  as  myself,  if 
attacked.  After  understanding  the  nature  of  my 
business,  he  consented  to  go  on  with  me,  and  this 
man  furnished  me  with  as  much  amusement  as 
Strap  did  Roderick  Random.  He  was  a  most  zeal- 
ous Methodist,  and  sung  hymns  the  first  day  almost 
perpetually.  Finding  that  I  should  be  obliged  to 
bear  with  this,  I  got  him  to  try  some  of  them  to 
good  old  song  tunes,  and  I  then  joined  with  him,  as 


COMPIvETION  OF  THE  ORNITHOLOGY  I07 

we  rode  along,  with  great  piety.  I  found  one  in  his 
book  that  very  nearly  answered  to  Jones'  song  of 
the  'Vicar  and  Moses,'  and  that  soon  became  a 
favourite  air  with  us.  He  labored  with  so  much 
earnestness  to  make  me  a  convert — preaching  some- 
times with  great  vehemence — that  I  had  no  other 
resource  on  such  occasions  but  to  ride  hard  down 
hill,  which,  the  preacher  being  unable  to  do,  gener- 
ally broke  the  thread  of  his  discourse.  He  was, 
however,  very  useful  to  me  in  taking  charge  of  my 
horse  while  I  went  into  the  woods  after  strange 
birds,  and  got  so  attached  to  me  that  he  waited  two 
days  for  me  in  a  place  where  I  had  some  drawings 
to  make.  I  stopped  five  days  in  the  barrens  of  Ken- 
tucky, exploring  that  extraordinary  country,  in  the 
house  of  a  good  Presbyterian,  who  charged  me 
nothing,  and  would  have  kept  me  for  a  month  for 
some  lessons  in  drawing  which  I  gave  his  two 
daughters.  Here  my  psalm-singing  Methodist  left 
me.  These  barrens  are  almost  without  wood,  and 
the  whole  face  of  the  ground  seemed  to  be  covered 
with  blossomed  strawberries.  They  must  grow  in 
immense  quantities  here  in  the  proper  season. 
Great  numbers  of  beautiful  flowers  that  I  have 
never  seen  before  were  seen  in  every  direction,  some 
of  them  extremely  elegant.  Many  of  the  inhabi- 
tants keep  their  milk  in  caves  lOO  feet  below  the 
surface  of  the  ground,  and  these  caves  extend  so 
far  under  ground  that  they  have  never  ventured  to 
their  extremities.  Frightful  stories  are  told  of 
some  tavern-keepers,  who  are  suspected  of  de- 
stroying travelers  and  secreting  their  bodies  in 
these  caves.     If  I  were  not  afraid  of  giving  3^ou 


I08  AI^EXANDER  WILSON:    POET-NATURAUST 

the  horrors,  I  would  relate  an  adventure  I  had  in 
one  of  the  most  frightful  of  these  caves  with  the 
fellow  to  whom  it  belongs,  and  who  is  strongly 
suspected  of  being  a  murderer,  even  by  his  neigh- 
bours. The  town  I  am  now  in  is  the  capital  of  the 
State  of  Tennessee,  and  is  built  on  the  top  of  a 
rocky  mountain  above  the  Cumberland  river, 
which  is  about  as  large  as  the  Schuylkill,  but  much 
deeper.  The  people  are  now  planting  in  their 
cotton  fields,  and  it  is  curious  to  see  the  seeds 
lying  Hke  rags  of  tattered  cotton  along  in  the 
trenches.  Apropos  of  rags,  I  have  been  obliged 
to  throw  a  good  many  of  mine  overboard  since  I 
purchased  a  horse.  My  handkerchiefs  are  re- 
duced to  three,  and  other  articles  in  proportion. 
By  the  time  I  reach  New  Orleans,  I  expect  to 
carry  all  the  remainder  on  my  back.  My  para- 
keet is  my  faithful  companion  yet,  and  I  shall  try 
hard  to  bring  him  home  with  me.  He  creeps  into 
my  pocket  when  I  ride,  and  when  I  alight  he 
comes  out  to  amuse  the  people  where  I  stop. 

"Please  present  my  respectful  compliments  to 
your  mother  and  father,  and  don't  be  offended  at 
anything  I  have  said.  If  I  hear  or  see  any  ghosts 
or  hobgoblins  between  this  and  Natchez,  or  any- 
thing worth  telling,  you  may  depend  on  hearing 
from  me. 

Compliments  to  sister  Jones  &c.,  &c.,  and  be- 
lieve me  to  be,  yours  affectionately, 

"Ai.i:x  W11.SON  " 

wildest  of  countries  to  Natchez,  passing  on  his 
From   Nashville  Wilson  traveled  througfh   the 


COMPLETION  OF  THE  ORNITHOI^GY  IO9 

way  the  grave  of  his  old  friend,  Governor  Meri- 
weather  Lewis  of  the  Lewis-Clark  Expedition. 
The  mystery  of  this  distinguished  man's  death  has 
never  been  explained,  there  being  many  circmii- 
stances  which  point  to  the  probability  of  his  hav- 
ing been  killed  and  robbed  by  the  man  Grinder, 
at  whose  cabin  he  was  stopping  for  the  night. 
Wilson,  however,  does  not  mention  this  rumor, 
but  seems  to  have  accepted  without  hesitation  the 
very  improbable  story  of  suicide  which  Mrs. 
Grinder  herself  related  to  him.  To  show  his  re- 
spect for  his  dead  friend,  Wilson  not  only  wrote 
verses  to  Lewis's  memory,  but  he  also  gave 
Grinder  money,  out  of  his  own  scanty  store,  to 
have  the  grave  enclosed. 

After  reaching  Natchez  and  searching  through- 
out the  surrounding  country  for  subscribers  and 
new  birds,  Wilson  traveled  on  through  west 
Florida,  New  Orleans,  east  Florida,  and  many  of 
the  islands  near  the  coast.  On  September  2, 
1810,  he  again  reached  Philadelphia  after  having 
been  traveling,  sometimes  in  a  boat,  sometimes 
on  horseback,  but  chiefly  on  foot,  for  seven  con- 
tinuous months. 

While  at  Nashville  our  traveler  met  with  a  mis- 
fortune which  he  accepted  and  remedied  with  that 
dauntless  spirit  which  had  marked  his  whole  life. 
He  somewhat  carelessly  intrusted  the  drawings 
which  he  had  made  since  leaving  home  to  the 
mail,  and  they  never  reached  their  destination. 
The  loss  was  of  similar  nature  to  that  which  Au- 
dubon suffered  in  the  destruction  bv  mice  of  a 


I  lO         AIv^XANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

large  number  of  his  colored  sheets,  but  Wilson's 
was  fortunately  nothing  like  so  great. 

After  his  return  from  this  trip  through  the 
inland  to  Florida,  Wilson  set  vigorously  to  work 
preparing  for  the  press  the  material  which  he  had 
collected.  The  year  1811  and  the  earlier  part  of 
1812  was  spent  in  Philadelphia,  where  he  stayed 
a  great  part  of  the  time  at  the  beautiful  flower- 
embowered  home  of  William  Bartram.  Busy  as 
he  was,  he  found  time  occasionally  to  write  to 
Scotland  and  to  send  some  part  of  his  little  in- 
come to  his  old  father.  Misfortunes  seem  to 
have  been  gathering  across  the  water.  Wilson 
wrote  his  brother  David  that  his  wish  to  "reach 
the  glorious  rock  of  independence"  in  order  that 
from  thence  he  might  assist  his  "relatives  who  are 
struggling  with  and  buffeting  the  billows  of  adver- 
sity" had  led  him  on  to  his  prodigious  exertions. 
Later  in  the  same  year  David  joined  him  in 
America,  bringing  tidings  of  the  loved  ones  and 
of  their  misfortunes,  and  Wilson  took  him  with 
him  to  live. 

The  third  volume  of  the  "Ornitholog)^"  ap- 
peared in  the  early  part  of  18 11,  and  on  July  9  of 
the  same  year  Wilson  wrote  George  Ord  that  the 
fourth  volume  was  all  finished,  save  the  engrav- 
ing of  two  plates.  It  appeared  a  little  later. 
The  fifth  and  sixth  volumes  came  from  the  press 
in  1812,  and  in  the  early  part  of  the  following  year 
the  seventh  was  published. 

Late  in  1812  he  made  his  last  ornithological 
trip.  This  voyage  led  him  up  the  Hudson,  across 
the  rough,  rugged  country  to  Lake  Champlain, 


COMPLE^TION  OF  THE  ORNITHOLOGY  III 

which  he  followed  until  he  reached  Burlington, 
Vermont ;  all  the  while  he  was  adding  copiously 
to  his  collection  of  birds.  The  country  about  the 
Connecticut  River  he  tramped,  gun  in  hand, 
visited  again  Dartmouth  College  and  Boston, 
and  passed  through  Portsmouth  and  Portland.  At 
Haverhill  his  unusual  habits  of  tramping  the 
forests  alone  caused  him  to  be  arrested  and  im- 
prisoned as  a  Canadian  spy,  but  on  explanation 
he  was  soon  released.  His  second  visit  to  New 
England  was  rich  in  results,  and  greatly  encour- 
aged he  was  soon  at  work  again  in  Philadelphia. 
Here  all  was  not  going  well,  for  in  spite  of  the 
generous  praise  and  thanks  that  he  gave  to  all  his 
co-workers,  in  his  prefaces,  especially  the  engrav- 
ers, Lawson,  Murray,  and  Warnicke,  some  of 
them  occasioned  him  no  little  trouble.  Murray, 
he  could  no  longer  depend  on,  and  all  of  his  "col- 
ourists"  left  him,  so  that  he  had  to  do  a  great  deal 
of  extra  work,  and  at  this  period  his  health  was 
beginning  to  fail.  At  the  same  time,  however, 
fortune  was  not  altogether  frowning  on  him. 
His  books  were  beginning  to  bring  him  some 
fame,  and  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Colum- 
bia Society  of  Fine  Arts  and  of  the  Philosophical 
Society  of  Philadelphia. 

By  the  early  part  of  July  the  eighth  volume  of 
the  "Ornithology"  was  ready  for  the  press,  and 
Wilson  was  eagerly  planning  the  last  one,  and 
outlining  a  work  on  American  quadrupeds  similar 
to  the  "Ornithology."  But  already  the  strain  of 
his  work  was  telling  upon  him,  and  his  constitu- 
tion began  to  weaken  under  it,  yet  like  a  true  war- 


112      ALEXANDi^R  wii^son:  poe;t-naturaust 

horse,  he  was  to  die  "in  harness."  While  talking 
with  a  friend  he  saw  a  bird  of  a  species  which  he 
especially  desired  to  secure.  He  followed  it 
across  a  river  and  finally  obtained  it,  but  only  after 
he  had  become  drenched  with  water.  The  cold 
which  resulted  from  this  chase  brought  on  dysen- 
tery, a  disease  from  which  he  had  before  sufifered  a 
great  deal,  and  which  in  his  weakened  condition 
he  was  unable  to  withstand.  He  died  after  only 
a  few  days'  sickness  at  nine  in  the  morning  on  the 
23rd  of  August,  1813,  in  his  48th  year.  All  the 
scientific  men  and  clergy  of  Philadelphia  united  in 
paying  their  last  respects  to  his  memory,  when  he 
was  buried  in  the  yard  of  the  Swedish  Church  on 
Water  street,  Philadelphia.  A  marble  table-tomb 
above  his  grave  bears  for  inscription: 

THIS  MONUMENT 

covers  the  remains  of 

ALEXANDER  WILSON, 

Author  of  the 

American   Ornithology. 

He  was  born   in  Renfrewshire,   Scotland, 

on  the  6th.  July,   1766 : 

Emigrated  to  the  United  States 

in  the  year   1794; 

Aged  47. 

On  the  23rd.  August,  1813, 

of  the  dysentery, 

And  died  in  Philadelphia, 

Ingeno  stat  sine  morte  decus. 

At  the  time  of  his  death  Wilson  is  said  to  have 
been  engaged  to  Miss  Sarah  Miller,  "daughter  of 
a  proprietor  in  the  vicinity  of  Winterton."  He 
appointed  her  an  executrix  of  his  estate. 

The  eighth  volume  of  the,  "Ornithology,"  which 


COMPI^TION  O]?  THE  ORNITHOLOGY  II3 

was  already  in  the  press,  was  committed  to  the 
care  of  his  friend,  George  Ord,  who  had  been  with 
Wilson  on  some  of  his  expeditions.  It  appeared 
in  January,  1814,  and  was  followed  in  May  by  the 
last  volume,  which  Ord  also  edited  and  to  which 
he  appended  a  life  of  Wilson.  Ord  wrote,  partly 
from  Wilson's  notes,  the  accompanying  text  to 
the  ninth  volume,  but  the  plates  had  been  colored 
under  Wilson's  own  superintendence. 

With  a  touch  of  the  all-pervading  sentiment 
which  his  somewhat  taciturn  Scotch  nature  often 
restrained  him  from  expressing,  Wilson  had  often 
given  utterance  to  the  wish  that  his  grave  might 
be  where  the  birds  would  sing  above  him,  and 
it  was  a  cause  of  much  regret,  after  this  became 
known  to  his  friends,  that  in  the  yard  of  the  Swe- 
dish Church  the  wish  seemed  unfulfilled.  Alex- 
ander B.  Grosart,  however,  tells  us  that  "Al- 
though the  Swedish  Church  is  in  a  business- 
crowded  district,  I  myself,  on  paying  a  pilgrim- 
visit  to  the  grave,  heard  an  oriole  piping  softly 
and  sweetly  within  a  few  yards  of  it."  Over  the 
tomb  of  Wilson  there  is  now  growing  a  graceful 
young  willow,  and  in  that  far-away  part  of  the  city 
about  Water  street  there  is  not  much  noise  to  dis- 
turb the  quiet  peace  of  the  little  grave-yard,  which 
lies  before  the  quaint  old  Swedes'  Church. 

Wilson's  life  had  been  one  of  fierce  strivings 
and  bitter  disappointments,  and  it  ended  in  the 
midst  of  struggle.  Not  the  faintest  touch  of  sor- 
didness  had  stained  it ;  but  the  forces  which  most 
went  to  shape  it  were  love  of  science  and  of  his 
8 


114       ALEXANDER  wieson:   poet-naturalist 

country  and  the  alluring  thirst  for  fame.  If  am- 
bition be  a  sin,  then  he  had  sinned  deeply,  for  in 
company  with  great  men  and  with  angels  he  was 
possessed  of  this  "last  infirmity  of  noble  minds." 
We  shall  hardly  blame  him  for  this,  for  though 
there  is  an  ambition  of  avarice  and  pride  there  is 
also  an  ambition  of  love  and  service.  Even  as  it 
should  be,  the  battles  of  his  brave  life  ended  in 
victory,  and  if  he  received  not  the  palm  in  life, 
it  was  at  least  laid  in  death  upon  his  tomb,  and  it 
was  this  after  all  that  he  most  desired :  that  he 
might  accomplish  something  by  which  posterity 
might  know  that  he  had  lived.  A  psean  of  praise 
and  commendation  of  his  work  went  up  after  his 
death ;  his  "Ornithology"  carried  his  fame  over 
Europe  and  everywhere  was  hailed  as  a  great 
achievement.  The  Edinburgh  Reviezv  commented 
on  it  with  what  for  that  staid  publication  may  be 
called  enthusiasm ;  the  North  American  Reviezv 
copied  this  notice ;  and  article  after  article  ap- 
peared in  other  magazines.  In  his  own  town  of 
Paisley  the  house  which  had  replaced  his  birth- 
place was  marked  with  a  memorial  slab  and  a 
monument  was  erected  to  his  honor. 

What  Wilson's  final  rank  as  a  scientist  shall  be, 
must  be  left  for  the  scientific  world  to  decide,  but 
it  is  safe  to  say  it  will  be  no  insignificant  one. 
Excluding  the  little  work  which  William  Bartram 
and  Thomas  Jefferson  had  done  in  ornithology, 
Wilson  was  the  pioneer  worker  among  the  Ameri- 
can birds.  Prince  Charles  Lucian  Bonaparte, 
who  corrected  some  of  Wilson's  mistakes  of 
nomenclature,  declared  that  it  was  a  most  extra- 


COMPIJ'TION  OF  THE  ORNITHOIvOGY  II5 

ordinary  service  which  Wilson  performed  for 
science  in  presenting  among  the  two  hundred  and 
seventy-eight  species  of  birds  which  he  had  de- 
scribed, forty-eight  entirely  new  ones.  Ord  was 
of  the  opinion  that  the  "Ornithology"  presented 
fifty-six*  which  had  been  hitherto  midescribed. 

Perhaps  it  is  safe  to  say  that  Wilson's  place  as 
the  greatest  American  Ornithologist  is  disputed 
only  by  Audubon,  and  how  vastly  different  were 
their  advantages !  Audubon  worked  when  one 
might  travel  with  comparative  facility,  and  he  not 
only  had  the  assistance  which  was  to  be  gained 
from  Wilson's  work  itself,  but  he  also  entered 
into  the  fruits  of  Wilson's  labors  to  awaken  in- 
terest in  ornithology.  With  all  the  advantages 
of  education  also,  which  an  indulgent  and  thrifty 
father  could  offer  him,  among  which  was  the  time 
spent  under  the  French  artist,  David,  he  had 
everything  to  help  him  surpass  in  his  ultimate 
achievements  the  work  of  the  poverty-shackled 
and  self-educated  Scotchman.  Had  Wilson's  for- 
ty-eight years  been  stretched  to  Audubon's  sev- 
enty-six, through  the  days  of  prosperity  and  ap- 
probation which  his  books  would  have  brought 
him.  the  result  of  his  labors  might  have  been  ten- 
fold greater.  John  Burroughs  in  his  life  of  Audu- 
bon compares  him  thus  with  Wilson:  "His  draw- 
ings have  far  more  spirit  and  artistic  excellence, 
and  his  text  shows  more  enthusiasm  and  hearty 
affiliation  with  nature.  In  accuracy  of  observation 
Wilson  is  fully  his  equal  if  not  his  superior."     Of 

*  Mr.    John    BurrouRhs    accepts    the    original    figures    also,    viz,    three 
hundred  and  twenty  species  described,  of  which  fifty-six  were  new. 


Il6  AI^EXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

Audubon  he  says,  "His  birds  are  very  demonstra- 
tive, even  theatrical  and  melodramatic  at  times. 
*  *  Wilson  errs,  if  at  all,  in  the  other  direction. 
His  birds,  on  the  other  hand,  reflect  his  cautious, 
undemonstrative  Scotch  nature."  The  compari- 
son is  not,  after  all,  a  very  severe  one  for  Wilson's 
fame. 


CHAPTER  VII 

WIIvSON,   THE   MAN 

He  who  would  enter  into  the  spirit  of  any  man's 
work  must  first  understand  something  of  the  man. 
One  should  know  his  Boswell  if  he  would  enjoy 
to  the  fullest  his  Johnson;  Charles  Lamb  and 
"Old  Fitz"  are  as  delightful  in  themselves  as  in  the 
"Essays  of  Elia"  or  the  Rubaiyat  of  Omar. 
Even  the  frailties  of  a  Bacon  or  a  Byron  must  be 
remembered  for  the  light  that  we  gain  for  the 
understanding  of  what  they  have  written.  Indeed, 
for  myself  I  must  confess  that  there  are  some  men 
who  mean  more  to  me  than  their  books.  With 
all  my  love  for  the  Defense  of  Poesy  and  the 
Arcadia,  I  would  sooner  throw  the  last  existing 
copies  of  them  both  into  the  fire  than  have  the  world 
forget  that  Sir  Philip  Sidney  had  lived;  and  the 
personalities  of  Phillips  Brooks  and  William  Gil- 
more  Simms  hold  a  dearer  place  in  my  own  heart 
than  any  printed  pages  that  survive  them.  Even 
the  records  of  some  men's  faces  mean  a  great  deal 
to  us.  Who  does  not  love  the  kindly  smile  of 
Emerson  or  the  dreamy  eyes  of  Hawthorne? 
What  lover  of  literature  is  there  who  does  not 
con  over  the  features  of  his  favorite  author  as  he 
would  over  those  of  a  dear  friend?  We  shall  lose 
none  of  our  admiration  for  our  Alexander  Wilson 
if  we  will  introduce  him  to  ourselves,  for  his  life 
is  as  full  of  courage,  of  heroic  strivings,  of  lofty 
aspirations,  of  patriotism  and  of  love  as  it  could 


Il8         AI^KXANDER  wii,son:    POET-NATURAUST 

well  be,  and  as  full  of  the  freshness,  the  fragrance, 
and  the  freedom  of  the  woods  as  are  his  own  writ- 
ings. But  his  nature  was  so  characterized  by 
growth  and  development  that  we  must  study  him 
at  least  in  two  periods  of  his  life. 

The  picture  that  was  painted  of  him  a  few  years 
before  he  came  to  America  by  James  Craw  is  said 
to  be  an  excellent  reproduction  of  his  youthful 
appearance.  His  face  is  exceedingly  narrow,  and 
about  the  large  dark  eyes  there  is  not  the  keen 
expression  which  was  noticed  by  some  who  have 
described  his  appearance  later  in  life,  but  rather 
the  wistfulness  of  the  dreamer,  looking  far  beyond 
him  with  heavy  drooping  lids.  His  high  but  some- 
what narrow  forehead  is  lost  in  a  profusion  of 
straight-cut  hair  that  falls  over  it ;  his  nose  is  long 
and  thin  and  noticeably  hooked,  while  above  his 
narrow  but  rounding  chin  is  a  well-bowed  sensi- 
tive mouth  with  low-hanging  underlip.  About 
his  shoulders  falls  his  hair  in  long  natural  waves, 
and  the  hand  on  which  he  rests  his  face  is  a  slender 
and  graceful  one  for  a  man  who  has  earned  his 
bread  with  such  hard  labor.  Withal,  his  long  thin 
face,  with  its  dreamy,  almost  melancholy  expres- 
sion, is  not  uncomely,  though  certainly  not  hand- 
some. It  is  the  face  rather  of  the  poet  than  of 
the  man  of  action,  and  would  scarcely  lead  us  to 
expect  the  dauntless  pertinacity  of  purpose  which 
at  last  made  him  famous ;  nor  in  the  sweet,  almost 
sentimental,  features  can  we  catch  the  faintest 
glimpse  of  the  vein  of  coarseness  which  runs 
through  his  earlier  poems. 

In  considering  Wilson's  nature  we  must  not  for- 


WILSON,  THE  MAN  II9 

get  one  predominating  characteristic  of  his  earlier 
years — moodiness.  One  moment  he  is  exulting 
over  some  little  encouragement — a  kind  word  from 
some  one  he  highly  esteemed,  or  a  few  more 
names  on  his  subscription  list,  the  next  he  is 
plunged  in  the  "slough  of  despondency"  by  the 
smallest  slight  imaginable.  His  whole  world 
glows  in  rose  colors  or  darkens  in  gloom  accord- 
ing to  his  feelings — to  use  his  own  words,  "the 
least  beam  of  hope  brightens  and  the  slightest 
shades  horrify  his  tumultuous  soul."  From  his 
earliest  youth  Wilson's  propensity  for  rhyming 
kept  hold  upon  him,  and  his  abiding  propensity  for 
rhyming  kept  him  from  devoting  himself  to  his 
other  labors  with  that  ardor  which  is  the  price  of 
success.  Even  in  this  early  period  of  his  life  he  was 
not  wanting  in  patient  industry.  How  very  assidu- 
ously did  he  tramp  the  rough  Scotch  roads,  going 
from  door  to  door,  studying  with  all  earnestness 
in  what  manner  he  might  please  this  one  and 
flatter  that  one  until  he  had  cajoled  them  into 
subscribing  for  his  book ;  poverty  often  oppressed 
him,  but  such  times  did  not  come  when  he  devoted 
his  energies  to  the  loom,  but  only  when  he  heeded 
the  Siren-voice  of  his  treacherous  muse,  which  so 
often  led  him  astray.  He  was  proud  of  the  little 
he  had  accomplished  in  a  poetic  way,  and  vain  of 
his  poetic  talents.  A  little  praise  fired  him  with 
tumultuous  enthusiasm  and  turned  his  thoughts 
from  the  earning  of  bread  to  the  winning  of  fame. 
A  character  naturally  brave,  almost  to  reckless- 
ness, encouraged  him  to  leave  a  good  and  sure 
living  to  take  up  a  most  precarious  one  if  only  it 


I20  AI,KXANDE:R  WILSON  :     POEH'-NATURAUST 

brought  devotion  to  his  beloved  poetry  and  the 
chance  of  a  reputation.  But  we  cannot  blame 
such  fearlessness  when  we  remember  that  it  was 
this  also  that  sent  him  across  the  Atlantic  and  at 
last  led  him,  by  a  new  path,  to  the  goal  for  which 
he  so  ardently  longed.  There  were  other  causes, 
too,  which  united  with  this  thirst  for  fame  to  lead 
him  Galahad-like  upon  his  two  searches  for  his 
"holy-grail."  There  seemed  to  have  been  born 
in  him  a  love  for  roving  and  a  devotion  to  nature 
and  animals  which  was  at  last  to  master  and  con- 
trol all  other  passions  of  his  life.  Through  all 
his  wanderings — were  he  gloomy  or  glad — never 
did  he  forget  to  listen  to  the  songs  of  the  birds, 
nor  was  he  ever  too  sordid  or  weary  to  turn  from 
his  trail  to  view  the  beauties  of  nature ;  to  him  life 
without  the  birds,  the  flowers,  and  the  glorious 
heavens  wasn't  really  life  after  all.  In  his  earliest 
writings  there  is  an  honest  candor,  a  love  of  truth 
and  fair  dealing,  and  a  hatred  of  artificiality  and 
falsehood  that"  are  unmistakably  real  and  sincere. 
Save  in  his  darkest  hours  of  despondency  when 
nothing  looked  bright  to  him,  he  saw  life  with 
wide-open,  far-seeing  eyes  that  looked  at  every- 
thing in  a  broad,  wholesome  way. 

Toward  his  brother  poets,  as  in  later  life  to  his 
fellow  naturalists,  there  is  never,  even  in  his  most 
confidential  letters,  the  least  tinge  of  envy,  but 
his  nature  is  in  this  respect  as  free  and  open  as 
the  blue  sky  above  his  beloved  American  fields. 
Yet  his  character  has  not  received  the  refining 
of  suffering  and  experience  that  is  to  come  to  it 
with  the  passing  years.     He  is  a  little  over  self- 


WILSON,  THE  MAN  121 

conscious,  a  fault  common  to  introspective  natures 
such  as  his — sometimes  a  Httle  of  bitterness  creeps 
into  his  writings ;  those  who  will  not  listen  to  his 
proposals  are  dubbed  narrow  fools,  while  he  pours 
out  his  wrath  on  the  rich  who  keep  dogs  to 
frighten  off  the  poor  peddlers;  often  there  is  a 
biting  bit  of  satire  or  sarcasm  flashing  out  with 
unexpected  sharpness.  How  heartless  is  his  des- 
cription of  a  "little  hunch-backed  dominie"  who 
refused  to  take  the  book  which  he  had  subscribed 
for,  though  at  his  earlier  visit  he  had  been  ex- 
ceedingly agreeable  to  him.  He  likened  him  to 
a  walking-stick  with  a  head  fixed  between  two 
huge  eminences,  "one  jutting  out  before,  the 
other  heaped  up  behind  like  a  mountain."  His 
eyes,  he  says,  "rolled  forever  with  a  kind  of  jeal- 
ous pride  and  self-importance,  on  all  around  him." 
In  his  later  years  he  could  never  have  brought 
himself  to  speak  those  parting  words  when  he  told 
him  that  nature  was  especially  unkind  in  giving 
to  one  man  so  crazy  a  body  with  such  an  insigni- 
ficant soul ;  but  on  the  other  hand  he  avows  his 
belief  in  the  goodness  of  the  Duchess  of  Buc- 
cleugh,  even  after  that  lady  gave  him  so  curt  an 
answer  at  the  "Fair  of  Dalkeith." 

Wilson's  sensitiveness  is  again  and  again  evi- 
dent ;  for  instance,  after  the  affair  with  the  Duch- 
ess he  relates  how  with  hurt  and  despondent  feel- 
ings he  left  his  wares  to  retire  to  a  corner  of  the 
room  and  ponder  over  his  fresh  disappointment. 

To  his  friends  and  relatives  Wilson  was  unfail- 
ingly kind,  thoughtful,  and  faithful.  Thomas 
Crichton,    David    Brodie,    William    Duncan,    his 


122  Ar,I;XANDi:R  wri^SON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

nephew,  and  his  father  and  step-mother  were 
never  forgotten  throughout  his  whole  Hfe,  and  in 
later  years  he  was  equally  devoted  to  Charles  Orr 
and  William  Bartram.  Once  admiring  President 
Jefferson,  he  never  faltered  in  his  devotion  to  him, 
even  when  he  failed  to  get  the  appointment  on 
Pike's  Expedition,  for  which  he  so  much  longed 
for  the  sake  of  his  study  of  the  birds  of  that  un- 
known region. 

Wilson's  character  was  marked  by  a  natural 
gentleness  and  naive  tenderness.  Since  his 
mother  died  when  he  was  a  child,  and  he  never 
knew  the  affection  of  a  wife,  while  his  sister  was 
several  years  his  senior, — nor  was  he  associated 
with  her  for  any  long  while, — he  was  thus  without 
those  more  subtle  sympathies  which  are  only  de- 
veloped by  the  affections  of  a  woman  made  dear 
by  life's  closer  ties.  Yet  to  Wilson  the  love  of 
animals  appealed  with  a  force  that  few  men  know, 
and  to  bird  and  beast  alike  throughout  life  his 
affection  went  out  with  all  the  tenderness  of  his 
nature. 

A  little  paroquet  which  he  carried  with  him 
through  one  of  his  southern  trips  became  to  him 
a  real  companion,  and  he  speaks  of  his  regret  at 
parting  from  it  with  evident,  though  restrained, 
feeling.  His  account  of  the  freeing  of  a  wee 
mouse,  which  he  was  sketching,  speaks  volumes 
for  the  tenderness  of  the  man.  "One  of  my 
boys,"  he  wrote  Bartram,  "caught  a  mouse  in 
school,  a  few  days  ago,  and  directly  marched  up 
to  me  with  his  prisoner.  I  set  about  drawing  it 
that  same  evening,  and  all  the  while  the  pantings 


WILSON,  THE  MAN  1 23 

of  its  little  heart  showed  it  to  be  in  the  most  ex- 
treme agonies  of  fear.  I  had  intended  to  kill  it, 
in  order  to  fix  it  in  the  claws  of  a  stuffed  owl,  but 
happening  to  spill  a  few  drops  of  water  near  where 
it  was  tied,  it  lapped  it  up  with  such  eagerness 
and  looked  in  my  face  with  such  an  eye  of  suppli- 
cating terror,  as  perfectly  overcame  me.  I  im- 
mediately untied  it,  and  returned  it  to  life  and 
liberty.  *  *  *  Insignificant  as  the  object 
was,  I  felt  at  that  moment  the  sweet  sensations 
that  mercy  leaves  on  the  mind  when  she  triumphs 
over  cruelty."  Though  this  occurred  in  his  later 
years  it  is  characteristic  of  the  humaneness  of  his 
whole  life. 

Let  us  turn  now  from  the  young  Scotchman  to 
the  mature  American.  We  shall  find  that  though 
time  has  plowed  deep  furrows  in  the  face  and  in 
the  soul  of  the  man,  yet  this  has  only  made  the 
flowers — the  virtues  of  his  character — blossom 
more  beautifully. 

Faithful  as  he  ever  was  to  his  own  ideals  of  life, 
yet  the  Wilson  that  died  at  the  age  of  forty-seven, 
in  Philadelphia,  was  in  many  ways  different  from 
the  young  man  of  twenty-eight  who  disembarked 
from  the  Szvift  in  1794.  Not  only  had  he  schooled 
himself  with  rigorous  constancy  in  those  studies 
in  which  he  was  conscious  of  being  most  deficient, 
but  life  itself  with  its  hardships  and  experiences 
had  disciplined  him  in  many  things.  We  have  re- 
marked on  a  strain  of  coarseness  in  his  early 
Scotch  writings  which  was  characteristic  of  many 
of  the  writers  with  whom  he  was  familiar;  not  a 
line  that  he  wrote  in  America  but  is  as  pure  and 


124         AI^EXANDER  WII^ON:    POET-NATURAUST 

chaste  as  a  child's  thoughts.  The  rash  impetuos- 
ity which  had  led  him  into  trouble  in  Paisley  ap- 
peared no  more,  but  when  his  brother  David 
brought  with  him  to  America  the  poems  which 
were  the  occasion  of  the  imprisonment  in  Scot- 
land, Wilson  is  said  to  have  given  them  to  the 
flames. 

To  Crichton  he  wrote  in  1811,  "You  found  me 
in  early  life  an  enthusiastic  young  man,  pursuing 
what  I  thought  right,  without  waiting  to  consider 
its  expediency,  and  frequently  suffering  (and  that 
feelingly  too)  for  my  temerity.  At  present  I  have 
the  same  ardor  in  the  pursuit  of  my  object,  but  the 
object  is  selected  with  more  discretion."  His  con- 
sciousness of  the  change  in  himself  is  often  voiced 
in  his  letters;  the  August  before  his  death  he 
wrote  to  his  father,  "The  difficulties  and  hardships 
I  have  encountered  in  life  have  been  useful  to  me. 
In  youth  I  had  wrong  ideas  of  life.  Imagination 
too  often  led  judgment  astray.  You  would  find 
me  much  altered  from  the  son  you  knew  me  in 
Paisley — more  diffident  of  myself,  and  less  precipi- 
tate, though  often  wrong." 

He  had  great  confidence  in  the  possibilities  of 
honest,  unremitting  work,  and  a  shrewd  under- 
standing of  the  ways  of  men.  His  whole  phi- 
losophy of  life  is  summed  up  in  his  remark  that, 
"To  be  completely  master  of  one's  business,  and 
ever  anxious  to  discharge  it  with  fidelity  and 
honor,  is  to  be  great,  beloved,  respected  and 
happy."  With  his  canny  Scotch  nature  he  had 
little  respect  for  good-natured  negligence,  but 
believed  that  it  was  a  man's  duty  to  look  out  for 


WILSON,  THE  MAN  I25 

his  own  interest.  To  William  Duncan  he  wrote, 
''More  than  half  of  the  roguery  of  one-half  of 
mankind  is  owing  to  the  simplicity  of  the  other 
half."  He  distinguished  clearly  between  the  love 
of  church  and  the  love  of  religion,  "pietism"  and 
goodness;  he  was  liberal  in  his  views,  but  deeply 
and  sincerely  religious  in  his  feelings.  Of  his 
patriotism  we  have  already  spoken.  His  love  for 
his  native  country  and  the  still  greater  devotion 
to  the  land  of  his  adoption  are  expressed  over 
and  over  again  in  his  writings.  "Few  Americans," 
he  wrote  to  a  friend  in  Scotland,  "have  seen  more 
of  their  country  than  I  have  done,  and  none  love 
it  better."  George  Ord,  who  knew  him  well, 
summed  up  his  character  thus:  "Mr,  Wilson  was 
possessed  of  the  nicest  sense  of  honour  in  all  his 
dealings,  he  was  not  only  scrupulously  just  but 
highly  generous.  His  veneration  for  truth  was 
exemplary.  His  disposition  was  social  and  affec- 
tionate. His  benevolence  was  extensive.  He 
was  remarkably  temperate  in  eating  and  drinking ; 
his  love  for  retirement  preserving  him  from  the 
contaminating  influence  of  the  convivial  circle. 
But,  as  no  one  is  perfect,  Mr.  Wilson  partook, 
in  a  small  degree,  of  the  weakness  of  humanity. 
He  was  of  the  genus  irritahile  and  was  obstinate  in 
opinion.  It  ever  gave  him  pleasure  to  acknowl- 
edge error,  when  the  conviction  resulted  from 
his  own  judgment  alone;  but  he  could  not  endure 
to  be  told  of  his  mistakes.  Hence  his  associates 
had  to  be  sparing  of  their  criticisms,  through  fear 
of  forfeiting  his  friendship.  With  almost  all  his 
friends,  he  had  occasionally,   arising  from  some 


126       ale;xander  wii^oN :  poett-naturaust 

collision  of  opinion,  some  slight  misunderstand- 
ing, which  was  soon  passed  over,  leaving  no  dis- 
agreeable impression.  But  an  act  of  disrespect, 
or  wilful  injury,  he  would  seldom  forgive."*  In 
short,  Wilson  was  a  proud,  independent,  active, 
generous,  ambitious  man,  with  the  frailties  and 
virtues  which  usually  accompany  a  restrained  but 
fiery  spirit.  We  have  described  Wilson's  appear- 
ance as  a  young  man,  it  remains  now  to  paint  the 
picture  of  him  as  he  looked  in  his  later  years  in 
America.  His  height  was  about  five  feet  ten,  but 
from  his  stooping  somewhat  he  appeared  less. 
Audubon  thus  recites  his  recollection  of  his  first 
sight  of  him :  "His  long,  rather  hooked  nose,  the 
keenness  of  his  eyes,  and  his  prominent  cheek- 
bones, stamped  his  countenance  with  a  peculiar 
character.  The  dress,  too,  was  of  a  kind  not 
usually  seen  in  that  part  of  the  country;  a  short 
coat,  trousers  and  a  waistcoat  of  grey  cloth." 
There  is  an  excellent  portrait  of  Wilson  by  Peale 
which  was  presented  by  Governor  S.  Bradford  to 
Dr.  N.  Chapman  and  by  him  presented  to  the 
American  Philosophical  Society  of  Philadelphia. t 

Since  Ord's  description  must  represent  him  as 
he  was  in  his  very  latest  years,  with  it  we  close 
our  portrayal  of  Wilson,  the  Man. 

"In  his  person  he  was  of  middle  stature,  of  a 
thin  habit  of  body;  his  cheek  bones  projected, 
and  his  eyes,  though  hollow,  displayed  consider- 
able vivacity  and  intelligence ;  his  complexion 
was  sallow,  his  mien  thoughtful ;  his  features  were 

*  "American  Ornithology,"  IX. 

t  Through  the  kindness  of  this  society  we  are  able  to  use  a  copy  of 
this  portrait  as  our  frontispiece. 


WILSON,  THE  MAN  1 27 

coarse,  and  there  was  a  dash  of  vulgarity  in  his 
physiognomy,  which  struck  the  observer  at  the 
first  view,  but  which  failed  to  impress  one  on  ac- 
quaintance. His  walk  was  quick  when  traveling, 
— so  much  so  that  it  was  difficult  for  a  companion 
to  keep  pace  with  him ;  but  when  in  the  forest  in 
the  pursuit  of  birds,  he  was  deliberate  and  atten- 
tive— he  was,  as  it  were,  all  eyes  and  all  ears." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WILS0N''S  IvlTERARY  WRITINGS 

Like  many  another  man  whose  fame  was  made 
by  his  prose  works,  Alexander  Wilson  began  his 
literary  life  as  a  writer  of  verse.  He  will  always 
be  remembered  as  an  author  chiefly  by  his  vigor- 
ous, idiomatic  prose,  which  made  such  a  fitting 
accompaniment  to  the  faithful,  lifelike  drawings 
of  his  ''American  Ornithology."  There  was  a 
vivacious  picturesqueness  about  his  descriptions, 
and  a  lightness  of  touch,  which  lifted  them  above 
mere  scientific  writings  and  established  for  them 
a  claim  to  be  considered  as  literature.  He  loved 
the  birds  which  he  studied,  with  the  intense  feel- 
ing of  his  strong  Scotch  nature,  and  when  he  made 
them  the  subject  of  his  pen,  whether  in  the  realm 
of  prose  or  of  poetry,  his  enthusiasm  carried  him 
as  though  on  the  borrowed  wings  of  his  feathered 
friends  to  heights  he  could  never  reach  when  he 
wrote  upon  a  different  theme. 

The  "Ornithology"  is  written  in  a  popular 
rather  than  a  scientific  style ;  indeed  of  Wilson  it 
may  be  said  that  like  Thoreau  he  was  a  poet- 
naturalist  rather  than  a  scientist.  His  birds  are 
living  creatures  of  the  woods,  not  dried  specimens 
from  museums.  Real  descriptions  of  birds  that 
he  had  actually  known  and  watched  are  what  he 
rejoiced  in  writing,  not  abstract  generalizations 
from  the  facts  and  figures  which  he  had  collected. 
He  gave  these,  too,  but  not  with  the  same  evident 


Wilson's  literary  writings  129 

delight.  Read  his  account  of  the  habits  of  the 
bluebird  or  his  chapter  en  the  red-headed  wood- 
pecker, and  you  cannot  but  delight  in  the  fresh, 
naive  manner  in  which  he  speaks  of  his  friends  of 
the  forest. 

Already  has  the  "Ornithology"  been  treated 
of  at  so  much  length,  however,  that  it  is  now 
enough  simply  to  refer  the  reader  to  the  pages  of 
that  charming  book  itself,  with  the  assurance  that 
for  the  most  part  it  will  be  found  anything  else 
than  dull  to  him  who  loves  nature  and  her  chil- 
dren. 

Whatever  else  Wilson  wrote  in  prose  is  of  little 
interest  save  to  students  of  his  life.  An  oration 
which  he  delivered  at  Milestown  on  March  4. 
1801,  on  "The  Power  and  Value  of  National 
Liberty,"  indicates  that  Wilson  possessed  some 
oratorical  ability.  Both  this  and  "The  Solitary 
Philosopher,''  an  essay  published  in  The  Bee, 
a  Scottish  magazine,  in  1791,  were  of  too  ephem- 
eral a  nature  to  be  especially  interesting  in  them- 
selves. 

The  Journal  of  his  travels,  and  his  personal 
letters,  are  all  important  for  the  gaining  of  a  clear 
light  on  the  life  and  character  of  the  man,  and  to 
give  a  valuable  insight  into  Scotch  and  American 
life  a  hundred  years  ago,  but  since  he  wrote  them 
hurriedly  during  his  travels  we  find  in  them  no 
literary  finish ;  they  teem  with  the  indications  of 
the  scantiness  of  his  early  education,  which  are 
not  common  in  his  more  carefully  corrected  writ- 
ings. 

9 


130       ai,e;xande:r  WILSON :   poet-naturawst 

As  a  poet  we  wish  to  study  him  more  fully.  Wil- 
son's prose  is  familiar  to  many  readers,  but  with  the 
exception  of  "The  American  Blue-bird"  and  "The 
Osprey,"  which  have  been  often  republished  in 
anthologies,  his  verse  is  almost  wholly  unknown. 
It  was  a  misfortune  that  he  wrote  so  much  verse, 
for  the  greater  part  of  it  is  drearily  prosaic,  and 
the  few  pieces  that  are  really  good  are  like  modest 
little  poppies  that  have  caught  the  bright  colors 
of  the  sunlight  and  the  freshness  of  the  dewdrop, 
but  are  overlooked  in  the  great  field  of  dry  stubble. 
How  true  this  is  may  be  grasped  when  we  consider 
that  there  are  over  one  hundred  poems  which  are 
undeniably  his,  while  a  large  number  of  others 
have  been  attributed  to  him.  Nor  are  they  for 
the  most  part  short  pieces,  but  many  of  them  are 
of  unusual  length,  the  longest  consisting  of 
twenty-two  hundred  and  nineteen  lines.  Of  this 
great  mass  of  verse  not  more  than  twenty  pieces 
are  of  any  real  merit. 

It  is,  therefore,  only  the  claim  that  these  few 
good  poems  can  establish  for  him  that  shall  give 
us  any  right  to  call  him  a  poet  at  all.  Before  we 
take  up  the  consideration  of  these,  let  us  consider 
the  whole  great  mass  of  his  verse. 

We  shall  find  in  Wilson  all  the  faults  of  the 
Augustan  age  of  English  literature,  of  which  in 
common  with  other  poets  of  his  time  he  was  an 
immediate  heir.  Pope  had  died  twenty-two  years 
before  he  was  born;  the  lives  of  Goldsmith  and 
Gray  barely  overlapped  into  his  own,  but  the 
poems  of  these  men  were  still  the  models  after 
which  the  lesser  makers  fashioned  their  stanzas; 


wiivSon's  literary  writings  131 

it  was  after  the  mechanical  smoothness  of  their 
verse  that  Wilson  sought.  This  influence  had  a 
very  enervating  effect  upon  his  measures,  and  it 
is  only  when  he  escaped  from  it  that  his  verse  rose 
above  the  commonplace. 

Grosart  in  his  edition  of  Wilson's  poems  gives 
in  all  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  pieces,  of  which 
four  are  of  doubtful  authorship,  and  three  are 
only  variant  forms  of  other  poems  included  in  the 
same  volume.  The  work  readily  falls  into  two 
groups,  the  poems  written  in  Scotland  and  those 
composed  during  his  later  life  in  America.  For 
convenience  we  may  again  divide  the  former  of 
these  groups  by  considering  first  the  Scotch  dia- 
lect pieces  and  secondly  those  in  English. 

Without  doubt  the  finest  bit  of  work  that  Wil- 
son ever  accomplished  in  his  vernacular  is  the 
"Watty  and  Meg,"  which  he  published  separately 
and  without  his  name  in  1792.  There  is  a  vigor- 
ous humor  and  a  nice  sense  of  the  use  of  words 
evident  in  it  as  in  nothing  else  that  its  author  ever 
wrote.  As  a  picture  of  the  life  which  Wilson 
knew  so  well,  it  is  beyond  question  true,  and  the 
very  raciness  of  it  adds  to  its  faithfulness  without 
making  it  actually  coarse.  It  is  the  story  of  "the 
taming  of  the  shrew"  in  humble  Renfrewshire 
life,  but  its  chief  interest  rests  in  the  characters 
sketched  and  in  the  freshness  of  the  telling,  rather 
than  in  the  slight  incident  which  forms  its  plot. 
We  see  Watty  as  "he  sat  and  smoket  by  liim- 
sel'  "  at  the  jovial  hostelry  of  Mungo  Blue,  and 
we  hear  Meg  as  she  comes  in  "like  a  Fury," 
threatening   to   throw  his   "whiskey   i'   the   fire." 


132  ALEXANDER  WILSON:    POET-NATURALIST 

The  vivid  scene  of  the  home-going,  the  scolding 
and  the  fright  of  Meg  when  her  Watty  pretends 
to  have  "  'Hsted"  in  the  army  are  reahstic  and  are 
depicted  in  language  that  is  expressive  and  pic- 
turesque. It  was  of  this  piece  that  an  interesting 
story  was  told  by  Burns's  widow  to  Dr.  Robert 
Chambers.  The  poet  was  sitting  at  his  desk  by 
the  window  when  he  heard  a  local  hawker  crying 
out  "Watty  and  Meg,  a  new  ballad  by  Robert 
Burns."  Burns  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  open 
window  and  called  out  to  the  man,  whom  he 
knew,  "That's  a  lee,  Andy,  but  I  would  make  your 
plack  a  bawbee  if  it  were  mine."  There  were  not 
wanting  at  the  time  people  who  credited  the 
poem  to  the  greater  poet,  but  in  spite  of  its  real 
merits  it  has  not  the  imprint  upon  it  of  the  genius 
of  Burns, 

Two  years  before  "Watty  and  Meg"  was 
printed  Wilson  had  published  his  first  volume  of 
verse.  The  most  notable  thing  which  it  contained 
was  "The  Disconsolate  Wren,"  an  ear'y  indica- 
tion of  its  author's  devotion  to  nature.  The 
motto  which  is  prefixed  to  it  from  the  "Seasons" 
of  James  Thomson  suggests  a  healthy  influence 
which  had  come  into  his  life  from  the  poetry  of 
this  early  nature  poet.  Simple  as  the  poem  is — 
its  theme  is  only  of  a  little  wren  whose  nest  had 
been  destroyed — it  is  yet  distinguished  by  several 
lines  descriptive  of  nature  that  are  almost  match- 
less of  their  kind.  "The  morn,"  he  says,  "was 
keekin'  frae  the  East,"  and  the  familiar  picture 
takes  on  a  new  freshness  from  the  quaintness  of 
his  phrasing. 


Wilson's  uterary  writings  133 

"The  circling  nets  ilk  spider  weaves 
Bent,  wi'  clear  dew-drops  hung," 


and  the 


"bonnie  wee  bit  Wren, 
Lone  on  a  fuggy  stane," 


are  instances  of  the  same  fehcity  in  the  use  of 
more  micommon  Scotch  words. 

Another  poem  which  is  an  example  of  Wilson's 
skill  at  a  different  kind  of  verse  is  the  "Epistle 
to  Mr.  William  Mitchell,"  dated  from  "Lead- 
hills."  Wilson  was  the  author  of  several  excel- 
lent verse  letters  that  really  contain  lines  of 
true  poetry,  but  perhaps  he  never  surpassed  this 
one.     Its  opening  lines, 

"Hail !  kind,  free,  honest-hearted   swain. 
My  ne'er  forgotten  frien' ;" 

strike  a  chord  of  lightsome  open-heartedness  that 
runs  through  all  eleven  stanzas.  He  tells  with  an 
unruffled  good-humor  a  homely  story  of  a  ram 
that  butted  his  pack  into  the  "burn,"  and  the 
whole  letter  is  as  full  of  brightness  as  are  the 
"wide  muirs"  of  which  it  sings,  "that  spread  wi' 
purple  sweep, 

"Beneath  the  sunny  glowe." 

There  are  two  other  epistles  in  the  1790  volume 
that  are  especially  interesting.  They  are  to  An- 
drew Clark,  an  old  friend,  and  Ebenezer  Picken, 
one  of  Scotland's  very  minor  poets.  The  first  is 
full  of  characteristically  strong  phrases,  and  the 
other,  though  replete  with  references  to  the  un- 


134  ALE^XANDE^R  WII.SON:    POET-NATURAUST 

familiar  verses  of  Picken,  is  yet  too  genuinely 
Scotch  and  too  full  of  individuality  not  to  be  no- 
ticed among-  his  Scottish  pieces. 

There  are  a  number  of  other  epistles  which  are 
not  especially  noteworthy,  because  there  is 
neither  particular  poetic  beauty  about  them,  nor 
yet  any  prominence  of  the  individual  note  that 
might  otherwise  make  them  of  interest.  The  two 
epistles  to  James  Dobie  are  perhaps  the  best  of 
these.  The  first  gives  a  realistic  picture  of  Wil- 
son's attic,  the  second,  were  it  not  for  its  harrow- 
ing description  of  the  filth  of  Edinburgh,  would 
be  one  of  the  best  of  the  epistles.  The  remainder 
of  his  Scotch  verse-letters,  which  includes  two 
others  to  William  Mitchell,  one  to  James  Ken- 
nedy, and  a  second  one  to  Andrew  Clark,  are  in 
the  main  commonplace  and  uninteresting. 

In  the  better  of  his  epistles  Wilson  attained  to 
a  manner  quite  his  own,  although  he  used  the 
stanza  forms  which  were  familiarly  associated 
with  the  name  of  Robert  Fergusson  and  which  at 
the  very  time  when  he  was  writing  in  them  were 
being  consecrated  by  the  genius  of  Robert  Burns, 
Both  Burns  and  Fergusson  wrote  their  epistles 
in  an  easy,  facile  style  that  Wilson  never  gained, 
and  their  poetic  genius  gave  to  them  the  unmis- 
takable stamp  of  beauty  and  freshness  that  was 
also  beyond  him.  Nevertheless,  there  is  merit 
in  Wilson's  epistles  when  they  are  considered 
apart  from  the  work  of  these  greater  masters. 
He  succeeded  remarkably  well  in  reproducing  the 
atmosphere  of  the  places  which  he  described,  and 
their  bright,  cheerful  and  aptly  turned  phrases  are 


wiIwSon's  uterary  writings  13s 

not  their  only  virtues,  for  frequently  there  are 
flashes  of  real  poetry. 

Of  the  other  Scotch  poems  which  were  included 
in  the  1790  volume  a  few  words  will  suffice.  "The 
Pack"  is  a  dreary  dialogue  between  a  peddler  and 
his  pack,  the  former  recounting  his  woes,  the 
latter  expostulating  and  reminding  the  other  of 
what  he  has  for  which  to  be  thankful.  "Verses 
on  Seeing  Two  Men  Sawing  Timber,"  "Rabby's 
Mistake,"  "Callamphithre's  Elegy,"  the  "Epi- 
taph on  Auld  Jenet,"  and  the  "Address  to  the 
Ragged  Specter,  Poverty,"  are  all  equally  trivial 
and  worthless.  The  two  elegies,  one  on  the  "Un- 
fortunate Tailor,"  the  other  on  the  "Long  Ex- 
pected Death  of  a  Wretched  Miser,"  are  coarse 
and  without  merit.  The  "Verses  to  a  Stationer" 
are  very  poor,  but  the  lines  on  "Daybreak"  are 
full  of  suggestiveness  in  the  pictures  which  are 
drawn  of  the  awakening  life  of  the  city. 

There  were,  besides  the  Scotch  poems,  fifty- 
one  others  in  the  first  volume  of  Wilson's,  written 
in  English  verse.  They  are,  taken  collectively, 
far  inferior  to  the  vernacular  pieces,  and  it  would 
be  bootless  to  consider  them  all  individually.  It 
is  more  convenient  to  group  them  and  consider 
the  better  pieces  in  each  group.  They  consist 
of  epistles,  descriptive  verses,  fables,  and  songs 
chiefly.  Those  which  are  not  included  in  these 
divisions  we  may  speak  of  under  the  head  of  mis- 
cellaneous pieces. 

The  epistles  have  none  of  the  distinction  of  in- 
dividuality which  marked  several  of  those  which 
he  wrote   in  Scotch.     Commonplace   in  thought 


136  AI,i;XANDER  WII<SON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

and  mechanical  in  metre,  they  move  smoothly 
on  without  disturbing  the  peace  of  our  minds  by 
a  single  striking  phrase  or  fresh  thought.  From 
this  generalization  we  except  one  only,  the 
"Epistle  to  Mr.  David  Brodie,  written  on  the  Last 
Night  of  the  Year."  On  so  familiar  a  theme  it 
would  be  difficult  for  a  poet  to  be  very  original, 
and  we  do  not  find  that  this  epistle  surprises  us  by 
accomplishing  anything  very  unusual.  Yet  the 
poem  is  a  good  one  by  reason  of  its  very  simplic- 
ity and  sincerity  and  contains  several  stanzas 
that  are  quite  worthy  of  Wilson  at  his  best.  The 
year  is  described  as  "It  leaves  us,  trembling  at 
the  load  it  bears" ;  and  an  excellent  description 
of  the  bare  winter  fields,  which  is  strikingly  con- 
cluded with  the  line  "The  bleak  wind  whistling 
o'er  the  drifted  waste,"  gives  a  real  poetic  beauty 
to  the  poem. 

The  fables,  which  include  "The  Fly  and  the 
Leech,"  "The  Monkey  and  Bee,"  and  "The  Wasp's 
Revenge,"  are  manifestly  copied  after  Fergusson, 
but  they  merely  add  volume  without  merit  to  the 
verse  productions  of  Wilson.  The  songs  are  of  a 
better  quality.  "Achtertool,"  "Matty,"  and  "To 
Delia"  are  examples  of  the  greater  number  of 
them.  Smooth  and  mildly  musical,  there  is 
nothing  uncommon  about  them  either  of  merit 
or  of  fault.  They  were  written  to  familiar  Scotch 
airs  and  were  doubtless  composed  to  be  sung 
by  Wilson  and  his  friends  around  the  festal  board ; 
no  doubt  they  served  the  purpose  well. 

"The  Group"  is  the  one  song  to  be  especially 
noticed.    It  is  a  description  of  the  revellers  gath- 


wii^son's  ute;rary  writings  137 

ered  around  the  foaming  bowl,  and  it  has  all  the 
gay  spirit  of  the  occasion. 

The  originals  of  the  six  pictures  which  he 
sketched  are  somewhat  doubtful,  except  the  one 
of  himself  beginning 

"Here  Wilson  and   Poverty  sits 
Perpetually  boxing  together." 

So  closely  does  he  identif)^  himself  with  poverty 
that  a  single  verb  answers  for  both.  The  song  is 
interesting  chiefly  as  throwing  a  strong  light  on 
those  early  days  of  his  chequered  Hfe. 

The  descriptive  pieces  comprise  a  large  num- 
ber of  character-sketches,  stanzas  on  "Morning" 
and  "Evening"  and  other  similar  subjects.  They 
maintain  a  common  level  of  mediocre  verse,  and 
there  is  not  one  among  them  that  seems  more 
deserving  of  particular  attention  than  the  rest. 
Nor  shall  we  be  greatly  repaid  by  a  study  of  the 
remaining  pieces  which  do  not  come  under  the 
above  groupings.  Among  these  are  several  trivial 
elegies,  a  few  pointless  epigrams,  some  addresses 
of  no  great  merit,  and  an  unfinished  poem  on 
"Hardyknute." 

The  most,  then,  that  we  can  claim  for  this  first 
collection  of  poems  which  Wilson  printed  is  that 
there  were  one  or  two  pieces  which  gave  mild 
promise  of  something  better  to  come ;  it  would 
have  been  far  safer  for  his  claims  as  a  verse-writer 
if  these  early  attempts  of  his  youth  had  been  al- 
lowed to  slumber  on  forgotten.  Wilson  himself 
realized  later  the  weakness  of  many  of  them,  and 
when   he   published   another   edition   in    1791    he 


138       ai,e;xande:r  wii^ON :   poet-naturalist 

omitted  several  pieces  that  he  had  included  in  his 
first  volume.  Of  the  seven  new  pieces  which  he 
added  to  this  collection,  three  are  worthy  of  fa- 
vorable notice.  The  longest  of  these  is  "The 
Laurel  Disputed,"  which  had  already  been  sepa- 
rately printed.  It  is  a  monologue  spoken  in  the 
person  of  an  old  countryman  who  maintains  the 
superiority  of  Robert  Fergusson  over  the  older 
poet,  Allan  Ramsay.  Wilson  had  delivered  it  in 
the  Pantheon  at  Edinburgh,  and  though  he  alone 
spoke  in  Fergusson's  favor  against  seven  oppo- 
nents he  lost  the  vote  of  a  large  audience  by  only 
seventeen  votes.*  "Eppie  and  the  Deil"  is  an- 
other addition  of  merit.  Both  pieces  are  written 
in  strong,  racy  Scotch  dialect,  and  add  much  to 
the  strength  of  the  volume  of  verse.  "Eppie  and 
the  Deil"  with  its  very  evident  moral,  is  the  story 
of  an  old  woman  who  expressed  the  wish  that  the 
devil  might  take  her  loom.  His  Satanic  majesty 
at  once  complied  with  her  request,  but  so  com- 
placently did  she  accept  the  loss  that  the  zest  of 
the  trick  was  quite  gone  and  old  "Cloots," 

"though  he  was  the  devil, 
For  once  he  acted  vera  civil," 

and  gave  her  back  her  wheel. 

The  third  piece  to  be  singled  out  for  careful 
notice  is  a  song.  There  is  a  rare  swing,  a  musical 
lilt  to  the  "Ode  for  the  Birthday  of  our  Immortal 
Scotch    Poet"    that   is   unusual   among   Wilson's 

•  Belfast    Edition,    1844.      It   is   claimed  that   the   prize   was    won   by 

bribery   by   Mr.    Gumming,   who   is   said   to  have   purchased   forty   tickets 

of  admission  for  his  friends  on  condition  that  he  should  receive  their 
votes. 


wii^on's  i^iterary  writings  139 

verses.  It  has  caught  the  wild,  fearless  spirit  of 
the  day,  which  laughs  "down  the  priest  and  the 
devil  by  turns."  It  was  set  to  music  for  Wilson 
by  a  local  "Bacchanalian  Club,"  and  though  we 
know  nothing  about  the  occasion  for  which  it  was 
written  we  may  well  believe  that  Burns  himself 
was  present  when  it  was  first  sung.  Nothing 
could  better  represent  the  daring  expression  of 
jubilant  unrestraint  which  was  characteristic  of 
the  younger  men  in  Scotland  at  this  period  than 
this  song  which  "mixes  a  damn"  with  "O  rare 
Robin  Burns." 

Of  the  other  four  pieces  which  were  added  in 
the  1 79 1  edition,  one  is  an  ode  on  "Despondence," 
closely  modeled  after  Shenstone,  another  is  an 
epigram,  a  third  is  a  eulogistic  address  to  a  gen- 
tleman of  local  prominence,  and  the  other  is  a 
very  unsatisfactory  attempt  to  put  "Ossian's  La- 
ment" into  rhyming  iambic  couplets. 

Of  the  poem  which  was  next  published — 
"Watty  and  Meg" — we  have  already  spoken,  and 
we  shall  now  mention  an  interesting  group  of 
verses,  separately  printed.  These  verses  were 
born  of  the  spirit  of  revolutionary  unrest  which 
was  moving  over  the  troubled  waters  of  Scotch 
life,  and  though  there  is  no  poetry  in  any  piece 
of  the  group,  yet  they  are  interesting  as  an  ex- 
pression of  the  feelings  of  the  day.  Only  one  of 
these  verses,  the  "Address  to  the  Synod  of  Glas- 
gow and  Ayr,"  deals  with  political  and  religious 
matters,  and  bitterly  and  severely  does  it  lash 
the  existing  conditions.  The  others,  of  which 
"The    Shark,"    "Hab's    Door,"    and    the    "Hoi- 


140       Ai^EXANDER  wiI/Son:  poet-naturalist 

lander"  are  examples,  are  biting  satires  on  the 
manufacturers,  whom  the  weavers  believed  to  be 
oppressing  them.  They  are  crude,  relentless 
lampoons,  and  whether  actually  false  or  true,  they 
show  the  heat  and  bitterness  of  the  hatred  which 
these  weavers  bore  to  their  greedy  employers. 
But  they  brought  upon  Wilson  the  wrath  of  the 
men  against  whom  they  were  written,  and  it  was 
partly  due  to  them  that  his  career  in  Scotland 
ended. 

In  1791  there  was  printed  in  Paisley  ''The 
Psalm-singer's  Assistant,"  by  Robert  Gilmour, 
and  for  it  Wilson  had  furnished,  at  the  request 
of  his  friend  Thomas  Crichton,  seven  hymns.  The 
little  song  which  is  numbered  fourth  among  these 
is  rare  for  its  quiet  beauty  and  serenity. 

Among  the  pieces  of  doubtful  authorship  at- 
tributed to  Wilson  we  mention  as  worthy  of  note 
the  "Spouter."  It  is  mentioned  in  the  "Paisley 
Repository"  during  Wilson's  own  lifetime  among 
his  poems,  and  the  frequent  references  in  it  to 
other  poems  of  his,  as  well  as  its  general  style, 
indicate  that  lie  is  its  author.  It  is  an  humorous 
account  in  Scotch  of  a  rambling  "Spouter"  who 
recites  and  sings  for  the  benefit  of  the  audience 
that  has  gathered  expecting  to  see  a  play  of 
some  sort.  The  piece  is  chiefly  made  up  of  reci- 
tations and  songs  of  the  "Spouter."  The  best  of 
these  are  a  pathetic  little  song  "Young  Jeannie," 
and  a  poem  entitled  "The  Spirit  of  the  Lake's 
Song,"  which  is  really  a  remarkable  musical  gem, 
suggesting — almost  anticipating  in  theme — the 
"Cloud"  of  Shelley,  though  it  had  none  of  the 


WIItSON'S  lylTERARY  WRITINGS  I4I 

magic  grace  and  wonderful  melody  of  that  ex- 
quisite lyric. 

We  now  turn  to  the  poems  which  were  written 
after  he  crossed  the  Atlantic.  In  his  earHer  work 
Wilson  had  been  most  greatly  influenced  by  Fer- 
gusson,  Shenstone,  Thomson,  Goldsmith,  and 
Pope.  In  a  lesser  degree  Ramsay  and  the  bud- 
ding genius  of  Burns  left  their  imprint  upon  his 
style.  There  is  no  doubt  that  Wilson  knew  some- 
thing of  the  older  Scottish  poets,  and  the  influ- 
ence of  the  humble  writers  of  verse  among  his 
own  intimates  may  have  afifected  him  somewhat. 
Gay,  Beattie,  Smollett,  and  Gray  were  favorites 
with  him,  but  there  was  little  in  their  verse  to  ex- 
ert a  different  influence  upon  him  from  what  he 
also  received  from  Pope  or  Goldsmith  or  Thom- 
son. These  masters  of  his  he  followed  in  these 
early  years  with  slavish  devotion ;  the  result  is 
that  his  early  English  pieces  are  but  cold,  com- 
monplace copies  of  his  models.  He  attained 
much  of  the  smooth,  mechanical  ease  of  these 
poets,  but  none  of  their  inspiration,  and  it  was  he 
who  was  perhaps  least  among  them — Shenstone 
— that  Wilson  was  most  pleased  to  copy.  When 
he  wrote  in  his  own  Scotch  tongue  he  was  more 
original  and  Fergusson  and  Ramsay  were  as 
often  mere  incentives  to  his  muse  as  they  were 
models.  So  it  was  that  his  one  very  noteworthy 
poem  which  he  produced  in  Scotland  was  the 
Scotch  "Watty  and  Meg." 

In  America  new  conditions  confronted  him, 
and  when  he  sang  it  was  less  often  with  a  con- 
scious sense  of  copying  after  another.     The  man- 


142        AI,e;XAND^R  WIIvSON:    poeH'-naturalist 

ner  of  the  day  was  his  manner,  and  he  had  not 
sufficient  poetic  genius  to  completely  break  away 
from  it;  but  it  was  composite  rather  than  the 
style  now  of  one  poet,  now  another. 

Ten  years  passed  by  with  scarcely  a  poem  writ- 
ten. In  this  period  he  composed  a  few  exceed- 
ingly poor  songs,  such  as  "Bloomfield,"  "The 
Aristocrat's  Warwhoop,"  and  "My  Landlady's 
Nose."  That  some  of  them  were  widely  reprinted 
in  the  newspapers  is  a  commentary  on  the  taste 
of  these  editors  rather  than  a  proof  of  the  merit 
of  the  pieces.  "Jefferson  and  Liberty"  is  another 
song  of  this  period.  It  is  superior  to  the  others 
and  is  interesting  in  the  light  of  the  relations  of 
esteem  and  admiration  which  existed  between 
Jefferson  and  the  author;  it  also  shows  the  ar- 
dent love  of  Wilson  for  his  adopted  land. 

It  was  not  until  1800,  however,  that  Wilson 
really  produced  anything  in  America  which  was 
worth  his  while.  This  was  the  verse  letter  to 
Charles  Orr.  He  did  not  publish  this  until  it  ap- 
peared greatly  altered  in  the  July  issue  of  TJic 
Literary  Maga::inc  and  American  Register,  under 
the  name  of  "The  Invitation."  This  poem  was 
followed  in  the  Literary  Magadne  by  "A  Rural 
Walk,"  "The  Solitary  tutor,'"  "Lines  on  Seeing 
a  Portrait  of  Burns,"  and  one  or  two  others  which 
are  not  worthy  of  comparison  with  those  we  have 
named.  During  this  period  he  published  sepa- 
rately his  longest  poem,  "The  Foresters,"  and  in 
the  "American  Ornithology,"  he  includes  several 
of  his  best  verses ;  these  were  "The  American 
Blue-bird,"  "Tlic  Osprey,"  and  "The  King-bird." 


Wilson's  uterary  writings  143 

"The  Foresters"  was  Wilson's  most  preten- 
tious poem;  it  was  by  no  means  his  best.  Its 
conscious  attempt  at  the  grandiose  style  would 
have  quite  spoiled  it,  had  not  the  very  nature  of 
the  poem  been  impracticable.  It  is  a  long,  tire- 
some piece  of  twenty-two  hundred  and  nineteen 
lines,  with  a  subject  no  more  exciting  than  a  hunt- 
ing expedition  to  Niagara  Falls.  Wilson  himself 
expected  great  things  of  it,  and  declared  to  his 
nephew  William  Duncan  that  if  it  did  not  prove 
to  be  good  he  would  despair  of  ever  producing 
anything  that  would.  Its  success  in  book  form, 
however,  was  poor,  as  it  deserved  to  be.  The  at- 
tempt throughout  the  poem  seems  to  be  almost 
an  endeavor  to  acquire  the  stately,  splendid  style 
of  Milton,  who  is  several  times  mentioned  in  the 
piece.  But  imagine  a  writer  striving  to  engraft 
the  grandeur  of  "Paradise  Lost"  on  a  poem  writ- 
ten in  rhyming  heroic  couplets,  descriptive  of  a 
bird-hunting  expedition !  The  greater  portion  of 
the  poem  is  cumbersome  and  stiff,  and  at  times 
the  style  reaches  the  extreme  of  bombast  and 
bathos.  There  are  lines  of  beauty,  however, 
throughout  the  piece.  A  lovely  picture  of  au- 
tumn begins  with  the  forty-first  line  and  at  line 
twelve  hundred  and  seventy-five  there  is  a  good 
passage  representing  an  Indian's  lament  over  his 
lost  land.  These  few  well-written  passages  here 
and  there  are  unable  to  redeem  the  poem,  how- 
ever, for  the  larger  part  of  it  is  a  dreary  waste  of 
words. 

The  poem  on  Burns's  portrait  is  in  the  main 
good,  but  its  chief  interest   is   biographical.      It 


144         ALEXANDER  WILSON:    POET-NATURAUST 

has  a  significance  as  showing  that  the  two  poets 
were  undoubtedly  acquainted  and  that  the  poet- 
naturahst  admired  and  loved  ardently  his  "Brither 
Scot."  There  are  manifest  faults  in  the  poem, 
but  it  tells  us  that  to  Wilson  the  subject  was  the 
"well-known  Burns,"  his  friend,  whom  he  knew 
when  though  he  was  "his  country's  pride,"  he 
was  "yet  left  dark  Poverty's  cold  winds  to  brave." 
We  have  come  now  to  the  consideration  of  a 
small  group  of  nature  poems  on  which  we  must 
at  last  base  Wilson's  fame  as  a  poet.  The  first 
of  these  was  "The  Invitation."  It  is  in  the  form 
of  a  verse  letter  from  Wilson  to  Charles  Orr  and 
is  descriptive  of  the  inducements  which  the  coun- 
try offers  to  city-stifled  workers.  It  is  full  of  the 
beating  pulse  of  blossoming  summer,  painting  a 
land  of  almost  oriental  brilliancy.  A  rich  color- 
ing lights  up  the  whole  extent  of  its  almost  a 
century  and  a  half  of  lines  with  the  "green  and 
gold  and  purple"  hues  of  bird  and  flower.  The 
little  humming-bird  "chirps  his  gratitude"  as  he 
hovers  over  the  honeyed  sweetness  of  the  lines, 
flitting  by  the  poet's  art  through  the  verse-gar- 
den. We  see  the  "richest  roses,"  as  fanned  by 
the  ceaseless  beating  of  his  wings  they  "shrink 
from  the  splendour  of  his  gorgeous  breast" ;  we 
listen  with  the  poet  when  he  tells  us  how 

"Sweet  sings  the  thrush  to  morning  and  to  me;" 

we  watch  the  king-bird  as  he  "Snaps  the  return- 
ing bee  with  all  her  sweets."  And  delighted  we 
follow  on  as  he  leads  us  through  his  favorite 
haunts  where  the  birds  sing 


Wilson's  uterary  writings  145 

"From  the  first  dawn  of  dewy  morning  gray 
In  sweet  confusion  till  the  close  of  day." 

There  is  a  lack  of  imagination  in  "The  Invita- 
tion" and  an  overbalancing  of  adjective  with  ad- 
jective ;  in  short  it  has  the  faults  of  the  school 
from  which  Wilson  learned  his  measures.  The 
locusts  rise  in  ^'countless  millions"  to  our  "wonder- 
ing eyes."  "The  richest  harvests  choke  each 
loaded  field" ;  one  tires  of  this  careful  adjusting 
of  the  scales,  the  even  swing  of  the  metre  grows 
monotonous,  but  the  fault  is  in  the  taste  of  the  age 
rather  than  in  the  poet,  and  did  we  condemn  a 
writer  for  this,  Pope  and  Goldsmith  would  be  as 
gross  sinners  as  Wilson.  The  beauty  of  the  poem 
redeems  it.  True  to  nature,  a  just  picture,  rather 
than  an  idealized  impression,  it  stands  out  in 
pleasing  relief  against  the  tediously  pretentious 
epics  of  the  day,  such  as  Barlow's  "Columbiad," 
or  monotonous  panegyrics  of  the  order  of  Hum- 
phrey's "Happiness  of  America."  It  is  not  a  great 
poem,  certainly,  but  it  is  full  of  beauty  and  inter- 
est, and,  when  considered  historically  in  view  of 
what  was  being  produced  in  America  at  that  pe- 
riod, it  has  its  own  importance. 

"A  Rural  Walk"  is  another  descriptive  nature 
poem  of  slightly  greater  length  than  "The  Invita- 
tion." It  is  written  in  four-stressed  iambic  quat- 
rains with  alternate  rhyme  instead  of  the  suc- 
cessive pentameters  of  the  other  poem.  Though 
it  has  some  of  the  fresh  beauty  of  the  other  piece 
yet  it  is  far  less  striking  in  the  richness  of  the 
pictures  drawn  and  in  the  aptness  of  poetical  ex- 
10 


146  AI^HXANDER  WILSON:    POET-NATURALIST 

pression.  The  poem  is  partly  addressed  to  Wil- 
liam Bartram,  the  delightful  old  botanist  of  Phil- 
adelphia, and  it  contains  a  pleasant  note  of  ac- 
knowledgment to  him.  Though  perhaps  the  least 
important  of  this  late  group  of  nature  poems,  yet 
"A  Rural  Walk"  has  caught  enough  of  the  spirit 
of  nature  to  give  it  a  fresh  beauty,  and  there  is  a 
sense  of  sweet  melody  which  it  leaves  with  you 
as  though,  to  quote  its  repeated  line,  one  had  in- 
deed been  where  "thrushes  pipe  their  evening 
song." 

In  "The  Solitary  Tutor,"  which  appeared  in  the 
October  Literary  Magamne  two  months  later  than 
the  "Rural  Walk,"  Wilson  produced  what  is  per- 
haps from  an  artistic  point  of  view  the  best  of  his 
longer  EngHsh  poems.  In  this  Wilson  evidently 
set  himself  a  definite  model,  Shenstone's  "School- 
mistress," adopting  therefor  the  Spenserian  stanza. 
The  poem  is  autobiographical  and  depicts  very 
vividly  the  scenes  of  Gray's  Ferry ;  Wilson  himself 
is  the  "Solitary  Tutor."  In  Shenstone's  poem 
there  is  a  very  real  character  drawn,  and  some  vivid 
touches  of  portraiture  distinguish  it.  The  sketch  of 
the  good  old  lady  and  her  hen  is  most  felicitous,  and 
very  human  indeed  is  the  picture  of  the  schoolmis- 
tress when  a  culprit  stands  before  her,  and 

"brandishing  the  rod  she  doth  begin 
To  loose  the  brogues,  the  stripling's  late  delight, 
And  down  they  drop,  appears  his  dainty  skin, 
Fair  as  the  furry  coat  of  whitest  ermilin." 

Wilson  is  more  subjective  and  does  not  succeed 
so  well  in  producing  a  character,  but  the  poetical 
beauties   of  his   poem   compare   quite   favorably 


Wilson's  literary  writings  147 

with  the  stanzas  of  "The  Schoohnistress"  and  ex- 
ceed by  far  those  of  the  contemporary  American 
poet  Dwight,  written  in  the  same  metre,  in  his 
"Indian  Temple." 

The  poem  has  a  less  imaginative  beauty'  than 
the  "Invitation,"  and  never  rises  to  poetic  fervor, 
but  it  flows  on  in  a  pleasingly  musical  measure, — 
slightly  monotonous  perhaps, — with  many  rich 
nature-pictures  and  much  interesting  local  color. 

The  only  poems  that  are  now  left  to  be  consid- 
ered are  "The  Blue-bird,"  "The  Osprey,"  and  "The 
King-bird,"  three  charming  poems  which  were 
printed  in  the  "American  Ornithology."  "The 
King-bird  or  Tyrant  Fly-Catcher"  is  the  long- 
est of  these,  being  more  in  the  descriptive  vein, 
and  is  written  in  rhyming  pentameters.  The 
other  two  are  far  superior  to  it  as  poems.  Here 
at  last  we  have  the  best  expression  of  Wilson's 
poetic  art.  In  both  of  these  poems  there  is  an 
original  note  that  we  find  to  the  same  extent  in 
nothing  else  that  he  wrote  except  the  Scotch 
"Watty  and  Meg."  "The  Fisherman's  Hymn" 
in  "The  Osprey"  has  a  merry  swinging  measure 
that  excellently  fits  its  subject.  It  is  marred  by 
the  enumeration  of  the  various  fishes  in  the  sec- 
ond stanza,  but  it  is  one  of  the  best  of  our  early 
American  poems. 

"The  American  Blue-bird,"  however,  is  even 
better  in  its  rhythmical  melody  and  genuine  em- 
bodiment of  the  spirit  of  nature.  He  was  inspired 
to  sing  by  this  very  love  of  nature.  In  his  "For- 
esters" he  exclaimed. 


148  ALEXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

"What  though  profuse  in  many  a  patriot's  praise 
We  boast  a  Barlow's  soul — exalting  lays ; 
An  Humphreys,  blessed  with  liumer's  nervous  glow, 
And  Freedom's  friend  and  champion  in  Freneau ; 
Yet  Nature's  charms  that  bloom  so  lovely  here, 
Unhailed  arrive,  unheeded  disappear." 

These  were  the  bards  that  now  fired  his  emula- 
tion and  this  the  theme  which  should  inspire  his 
pen.  It  is  in  this  historical  setting  that  we  must 
consider  Wilson  before  we  conjecture  his  place  in 
American  literature. 

Joel  Barlow,  David  Humphreys,  Timothy 
Dwight,  John  Trumbull,  and  Philip  Freneau  were 
the  poets  whose  works  were  best  known  among 
the  native  writers.  The  first  three  were  authors 
of  long,  pretentious,  but  hopelessly  dreary  works, 
with  no  distinctive  style  to  mark  one  from  the 
other.  Their  verses  were  counterparts  of  the 
pompous  lines  of  Wilson's  own  "Foresters,"  and 
like  that  piece  are  best  remembered  only  histori- 
cally. Trumbull  really  produced  a  verse  full  of 
a  rough,  ready  wit,  but  he  was  certainly  no  poet. 
Freneau  was  the  one  poet  of  this  group,  and 
wrote  a  few  nature  poems  of  simple,  real  beauty. 

There  were  some  little  lyrics  being  produced  of 
unusual  beauty  by  John  Shaw,  Richard  Dana,  and 
Richard  Wilde,  but  they  were  exceedingly  few  in 
number.  Wilson  in  his  nature  poems  most  re- 
sembled Dana  and  Freneau,  and  "The  Blue- 
bird" and  "The  Osprey"  may  justly  claim  a  place 
with  Freneau's  "Wild  Honeysuckle"  and  "To  a 
Honey  Bee,"  and  Dana's  "Little  Beach-bird": 
delicate  little  poems  all  of  them,  that  were  to  be 
forerunners  of  the  nature  poems  of  Whittier  and 


Wilson's  literary  writings  149 

Bryant  and  our  later  poets.  These  early  singers 
were  the  beginnings  of  an  American  school  of 
poetry,  and  so,  historically,  their  names  are  very 
significant.  Among  them  Wilson  must  have  a 
place.  In  volume  he  left  enough  to  show  the  se- 
riousness with  which  he  considered  himself  as  a 
writer  of  verse,  but  the  volume  of  his  poetical 
work  does  not  help  his  reputation.  In  the  full 
edition  edited  in  1876  by  Alexander  B.  Grosart 
the  few  good  poems  which  Wilson  produced  are 
lost  in  the  great  mass  of  rubbish  which  the  editor 
has  gathered  together  from  the  author's  youth- 
ful past.  Part  of  it  is  made  up  of  puerile  attempts 
at  verse ;  part,  of  mere  doggerel  written  offhand 
at  some  odd  moments  to  enclose  in  letters  to  his 
friends.  Some  of  the  pieces,  produced  under  the 
influence  of  the  old  chap-books,  are  positively  re- 
volting in  their  vulgar  coarseness  and  utter  lack 
of  motif.  Thrown  promiscuously  together  they 
seem  a  hopeless  collection  of  worthless  verse 
which  it  were  best  to  leave  to  grow  dusty  on  for- 
gotten shelves. 

When  the  chaff  is  winnowed  out,  however, 
something  is  still  left  of  real  worth  and  enough 
of  it  to  make  a  respectable-sized  volume.  Such  a 
collection  would  include  about  twenty  poems. 
Among  these  would  certainly  be  "The  American 
Blue-bird,"  "The  Osprey,"  "The  Invitation," 
"The  Solitary  Tutor,"  "A  Hymn"  (IV  in  the 
series  of  hymns),  "Watty  and  Meg,"  "Eppie  and 
the  Deil,"  "The  Disconsolate  Wren,"  "Epistle  to 
William  Mitchell,"  and  "The  Laurel  Disputed." 

Others    that   would   perhaps    be    included   are 


150         AIvEXANDER  WII^ON:    poet-naturalist 

"The  King-bird,"  "A  Rural  Walk,"  the  two 
poems  on  Burns,  the  group,  "Epistles"  to  An- 
drew Clark,  David  Brodie,  and  Eben  Picken,  and 
selections  from  "The  Foresters."  These  would  in- 
clude amonof  them  the  best  of  Wilson's  work  in 
verse;    the  first  eight  are  undeniably  good. 

In  his  poetry  Wilson  was  not  remarkable  for 
his  originality,  and  it  was  only  his  intense  love 
for  the  birds  that  sometimes  made  him  so  forget 
all  models  that  he  was  able  to  produce  something 
that  had  on  it  the  true  mark  of  his  own  personal- 
ity. He  lacked  critical  judgment  and  often  his 
most  excellent  lines  occur  in  otherwise  barren 
poems,  while  just  as  frequently  his  strongest 
stanzas  are  marred  by  strikingly  poor  lines.  He 
was  too  reserved  to  ever  put  his  innermost  feel- 
ings into  his  verse,  and  his  taciturn  Scotch  nature 
rarely  granted  to  him  a  moment  of  heated  fervor. 
Yet  his  ardent  love  for  nature  and  the  close  ob- 
servation which  he  made  of  her  ways,  combined 
with  his  poetic  sensibilities,  enabled  him  to  write 
some  exceedingly  attractive  nature  poems  which 
should  assure  him  consideration  among  our  early 
lesser  poets.  His  pictures  of  nature  are  emi- 
nently true  and  his  verse  is  usually  rhythmical, 
while  sometimes  his  lines  are  exquisitely  musical. 

When  we  come  to  count  over  American  poets, 
we  shall  find  many  greater  and  more  splendid 
names,  but  America  can  never  be  so  rich  in  poetry 
that  we  should  forget  the  early  beginnings  of  our 
song,  or  altogether  overlook  the  modest  verses 
of  Alexander  Wilson,  "the  poet-naturahst,"  in 
whose  heart  the  birds  "nestled  and  sang." 


BIBUOGRAPHY 

The  American  Ornithology,  by  Alexander  Wil- 
son. 9  vols.,  folio,  with  a  life  of  Wilson  by 
George  Ord.  Bradford  and  Inskeep,  Phila., 
i8o8-'i4. 

The  American  Ornithology.  Second  Edition.  3 
vols.     New  York  and  Phila.     i828-'29. 

The  American  Ornithology,  by  Alexander  Wil- 
son and  Charles  Lucian  Bonaparte.  Edited 
with  notes  and  additions  by  Robert  Jameson. 
(Including  a  life  by  Dr.  W.  M.  Hethering- 
ton.)  Edin.  Constable's  Miscell :  IXVIII- 
IXXI,  4  vols,  1 83 1. 

The  American  Ornithology  with  a  continuation 
by  Charles  Lucian  Bonaparte.  New  and  En- 
larged Edition  completed  by  the  insertion  of 
above  100  birds  omitted  in  the  Original 
Work,  and  illustrated  by  Notes,  with  a  Life 
of  the  Author  by  Sir  William  Jardine,  Bart., 
&c. 

The  American  Ornithology  by  Wilson  with  notes 
by  Jardine,  to  which  is  added  a  synopsis  of 
American  Birds  including  those  described  by 
Bonaparte,  Audubon,  and  Richardson.  Ed- 
ited by  T.  M.  Brewer.  8vo.  Boston,  1840; 
New  York,  1852;   Philadelphia,  1856,  Etc. 

Memoir  and  Literaiy  Remains  of  Alexander 
Wilson,  the  American  Ornithologist.  Ed- 
ited with  memorial  introduction,  essay,  notes, 
illustrations  and  glossary  by  the  Rev.  Alex.  B. 
Grosart,  Paisley.    A  Gardner,  1876.    2  vols. 


152  ALEXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

The  Poetical  Works  of  Alexander  Wilson,  also 
his  miscellaneous  prose  writings,  journals, 
letters,  essays,  etc.,  now  first  collected.  Il- 
lustrated by  critical  and  explanatory  notes, 
with  an  extended  memoir  of  his  life  and  writ- 
ings and  a  glossary.  (By  Thomas  Smith 
Hutcheson.)  Belfast:  J.  Henderson  (1844). 
i2mo. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  Alexander  Wilson  with  a 
Memoir.    Belfast:   J.  Henderson,  1853.   240. 

Wilson  the  Ornithologist;  a  new  chapter  in  his 
life  (embodying  many  letters  hitherto  un- 
pubHshed)  by  Allan  Park  Paton.  London: 
Longmans,  Green  &  Co.,  1863. 

Memoir  of  Wilson  by  Sir  William  Jardine,  Bart., 
F.  R.  S.  E.,  etc.  Vol.  IV  of  the  Naturalist's 
Library.  London:  Chatto  and  Windus, 
Piccadilly. 

Life  of  Alexander  Wilson,  by  Wm.  B.  O.  Pea- 
body,  in  the  Library  of  American  Biography 
conducted  by  Jared  Sparks.  Vol.  II,  Harper 
&  Bros.,  New  York,  1854. 

Difficulties  Overcome;  Scenes  in  the  Life  of  Al- 
exander Wilson,  the  Ornithologist.  By  C. 
Lucy  Brightwell.     London,  1861,  i2mo. 

Sketch  of  the  Life  of  Alexander  Wilson,  Author 
of  the  "American  Ornithology."  By  George 
Ord,  F.  L.  S.,  etc.    Phila.,  1828.    8vo. 

Poems  of  Alexander  Wilson  (with  account  of  Liie 
and  Writings) :    Paisley,  1816,  i2mo. 

English  and  Scotch  Sketches,  pp.  277-284.  Thos. 
O.  P.  Hiller.     London,  1857. 


BIBUOGRAPHY  1 53 

The   Lives  of  Eminent   Philadelphians,   pp.   968- 

969.     Henry  Simpson.     Phila.,  1859. 
Memorable    Facts    in    the    Lives    of   Memorable 

Americans,  Sir  Rom.  de  Camden. 
Bird  Life :   Stories  from  Comparisons  of  Writings 

of  Audubon,  Wilson,  etc.,  by  C.  M.  Weed. 

Chicago :    Rand,  McNally  &  Co.,  1904. 
Wilson,   the   Ornithologist;    D.    Gardner,   Scrib- 

ner's  Monthly,  March,   1876,  vol.  2,  pp.  690- 

703- 
Potter's  American  Monthly,  vol.  4,  pp.  263-267. 

April,   1875. 
Obituary  Notice  of  Alexander  Wilson,  Port  Folio 

3rd  Series,  vol.  2,  Sep.,  1813,  pp.  345-353- 
Alexander    Wilson,    The    Great    Naturalist,    by 

Henry  Coyle,  The  Chautauquan,  Nov.,  1893. 
Letters  of  Wilson,  Penn.  Monthly,  vol.  10,  443. 
Wilson's  Ornithology,  American  Quarterly,  vol. 

10,  PP-  433- 

Alexander  Wilson  with  portrait.  Popular  Sci- 
ence Monthly,  vol.  36,  pp.  400. 

Chambers's  Miscellany,  No.  452. 

Griswold's  Prose  Writers,  p.  577. 

F.  Saunders's  Famous  Books,  p.  143. 

C.  C.  B.  Seymour's  Self-Made  Men,  p.  215. 

B.  B.  Edwards's  Self-taught  Men,  p.  594. 

Lossing's  Eminent  Americans,  p.   181. 

Museum  Foreign  Literature,  vol.  9,  p.  399. 

North  American  Review,  vol.  24,  24-110. 

Blackwood's  Edinburgh  Magazine,  vol.  19,  p.  661, 
June,   1826. 

Jules  Michelet's  L'Oiseau,  pp.  121-127. 


154        AI^EXANDKR  wii^son:    poet-naturaust 
OTHER   BOOKS  RKI^I^RRED   TO 

Social  Life  in  Scotland  in  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury, 2  vols.,  by  Henry  Gray  Graham.  Lon- 
don:   Adam  and  Charles  Black,   1899. 

Social  England.  Vols.  IV  and  V,  Edited  by  H. 
D.  Traill.    London:   Cassell  &  Co.,  1896. 

The  Union  of  Scotland  and  England.  A  Study 
of  International  History  by  James  Mackin- 
non,  Ph.  D.  Longmans,  Green  &  Co.,  Lon- 
don, New  York  and  Bombay,  1896. 

Recollections  of  a  Tour  Made  in  Scotland,  A.  D. 
1803.     By  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

Remarks  on  Local  Scenery  and  Manners  in  Scot- 
land during  the  Years  1799  &  1800,  by  John 
Stoddard,  LL.  B,  London:  Wm.  Miller, 
1801. 


SELECTED  POEMS 


THE  AMERICAN  BLUE-BIRD 

When  Winter's  cold  tempests  and  snows  are  no  more, 
Green  meadows,  and  brown  furrow'd  fields  reap- 
pearing. 

The  fishermen  hauling  their  shad  to  the  shore. 
And  cloud-cleaving  geese  to  the  lakes  are  a-steer- 

When  first  the  lone  butterfly  flits  on  the  wing, 

When  red  glow  the  maples,  so  fresh  and  so  pleasin' ; 

O  then  comes  the  blue-bird,  the  herald  of  spring. 
And  hails  with  his   warblings  the  charms  of  the 
season. 

Then  loud  piping  frogs  make  the  marshes  to  ring; 

Then  warm   glows  the   sunshine,   and   fine   is   the 
weather ; 
The  blue  woodland  flowers  just  beginning  to  spring, 

And  spicewood  and  sassafras  budding  together ; 
O  then  to  your  gardens,  ye  housewives,  repair! 

Your  walks  border  up ;   sow  and  plant  at  your  leis- 
ure; 
The  blue-bird  will  chant  from  his  box  such  an  air. 

That  all  your  hard  toils  will  seem  truly  a  pleasure. 

He  flits  thro'  the  orchard,  he  visits  each  tree. 

The   red   flowering   peach,   and   the   apple's   sweet 
blossoms ; 
He  snaps  up  destroyers  wherever  they  be. 

And  seizes  the  caitififs  that  lurk  in  their  bosoms ; 
He  drags  the  vile  grub  from  the  corn  it  devours. 

The  worms   from  their  webs  where  they  riot  and 
welter ; 
His  song  and  his  services  freely  are  ours. 

And  all  that  he  asks,  is,  in  summer  a  shelter. 


158  ALEXANDER  WIESON:    POET-NATURAEIST 

The  ploughman  is  pleased  when  he  gleans  in  his  train, 

Now  searching  the  furrows,  now  mounting  to  cheer 
him ; 
The  gard'ner  delights  in  his  sweet  simple  strain, 

And  leans  on  his  spade  to  survey  and  to  hear  him; 
The  slow-ling'ring  schoolboys  forget  they'll  be  chid, 

While  gazing  intent  as  he  warbles  before  'em. 
In  mantle  of  sky-bue,  and  bosom  so  red, 

That  each  little  loiterer  seems  to  adore  him. 

When  all  the  gay  scenes  of  the  summer  are  o'er, 

And  autumn  slow  enters  so  silent  and  sallow, 
And  millions  of  warblers,  that  charm'd  us  before. 

Have  fled  in  the  train  of  the  sun-seeking  swallow. 
The  blue-bird,  forsaken,  yet  true  to  his  home. 

Still  lingers,  and  looks  for  a  milder  to-morrow ; 
Till  forc'd  by  the  horrors  of  winter  to  roam, 

He  sings  his  adieu  in  a  lone  note  of  sorrow. 

While  Spring's  lovely  season,  serene,  dewy,  warm, 

The  green  face  of  earth  and  the  pure  blue  of  heaven. 
Or  Love's  native  music,  have  influence  to  charm. 

Or  Sympathy's  glow  to  our  feelings  are  given — 
Still  dear  to  each  bosom  the  blue-bird  shall  be ; 

His  voice,  like  the  thrilling  of  hope,  is  a  treasure ; 
For,  thro'  bleakest  storms,  if  a  calm  he  but  see, 

He  comes  to  remind  us  of  sunshine  and  pleasure. 


THE  OSPREY 

Soon  as  the  sun,  great  ruler  of  the  year, 
Bends  to  our  northern  dime  his  bright  career. 
And  from  the  caves  of  ocean  calls  from  sleep 
The  finny  shoals  and  myriads  of  the  deep ; 
When  freezing  tempests  back  to  Greenland  ride, 
And  day  and  night  the  equal  hours  divide ; 
True  to  the  season,  o'er  our  sea-beat  shore, 
The  sailing  osprey  high  is  seen  to  soar, 
With  broad  unmoving  wing,  and  circling  slow 
Marks  each  loose  straggler  in  the  deep  below; 
Sweeps  down  like  lightning !    plunges  with  a  roar ! 
And  bears  his  struggling  victim  to  the  shore. 
The  long-housed  fisherman  beholds  with  joy. 
The  well  known  signals  of  his  rough  employ; 
And  as  he  bears  his  nets  and  oars  along. 
Thus  hails  the  welcome  season  with  a  song: 

the;  fisherman's  hymn 

The  osprey  sails  above  the  Sound, 

The  geese  are  gone,  the  gulls  are  flying; 
The  herring  shoals  swarm  thick  around, 

The  nets  are  launched,  the  boats  are  plying. 
Yo  ho,  my  hearts !   let's  seek  the  deep, 

Raise  high  the  song  and  cheerly  wish  her ; 
Still  as  the  bending  net  we  sweep, 

"God  bless  the  fish-hawk  and  the  fisher," 

She  brings  us  fish — she  brings  us  spring, 

Good  times,  fair  weather,  warmth  and  plenty; 

Fine  store  of  shad,  trout,  herring,  ling, 

Sheeps-head  and  drum,  and  old  wives  dainty. 


l6o  ALEXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

Yo  ho,  my  hearts !    let's  seek  the  deep, 
Ply  every  oar,  and  cheerly  wish  her, 
Still  as  the  bending  net  we  sweep, 

"God  bless  the  fish-hawk  and  the  fisher !" 

She  rears  her  young  on  yonder  tree. 

She  leaves  her  faithful  mate  to  mind  'em ; 
Like  us,  for  fish  she  sails  the  sea. 

And,  plunging,  shows  us  where  to  find  'em. 
Yo  ho,  my  hearts !    let's  seek  the  deep. 

Ply  every  oar,  and  cheerly  wish  her. 
While  slow  the  bending  net  we  sweep, 

"God  bless  the  fish-hawk  and  the  fisher!" 


THE  INVITATION. 


Addressed  to  Mr.  Charles  Orr 

How  blest  is  he  who  crowns  in  shades  like  these 
A  youth  of  labour  with  an  age  of  ease ; 
Who  quits  a  world  where  strong  temptations  try, 
And  since  he  cannot  conquer,  learns  to  fly. — Goldsmith. 

From  Schuylkill's  rural  banks  o'erlooking  wide 
The  g-litt'ring  pomp  of  Philadelphia's  pride, 
From  laurel  groves  that  bloom  forever  here, 
I  hail  my  dearest  friend  with  heart  sincere, 
And  fondly  ask,  nay  ardently  implore. 
One  kind  excursion  to  my  cot  once  more. 

The  fairest  scenes  that  ever  blest  the  year 
Now  o'er  our  vales  and  yellow  plains  appear; 
The  richest  harvest  choke  each  loaded  field, 
The  ruddiest  fruit  our  glowing  orchards  yield. 
In  green,  and  gold,  and  purple  plumes  array'd. 
The  gayest  songsters  chant  in  ev'ry  shade. 

O  could  the  muse  but  faithfully  portray 

The  various  pipes  that  hymn  our  rising  day. 

Whose  thrilling  melody  can  banish  care, 

Cheer  the  lone  heart,  and  almost  soothe  despair. 

My  grateful  verse  should  with  their  praises  glow, 

And  distant  shores  our  charming  warblers  know ; 

And  you,  dear  sir,  their  harmony  to  hear, 

Would  bless  the  strain  that  led  your  footsteps  here, 

n 


1 62  AIvEXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURALIST 

When  morning  dawns,  and  the  bright  sun  again 
Leaves  the  flat  forests  of  the  Jersey  main, 
Then  through  our  woodbines,  wet  with  gUtt'ring  dews, 
The  flow'r-fed  humming-bird  his  round  pursues, 
Sips  with  inserted  tube  the  honey'd  blooms, 
And  chirps  his  gratitude,  as  round  he  roams; 
While  richest  roses,  though  in  crimson  drest. 
Shrink  from  the  splendor  of  his  gorgeous  breast. 
What  heav'nly  tints  in  mingling  radiance  fly ! 
Each  rapid  movement  gives  a  difif'rent  dye ; 
Like  scales  of  burnish'd  gold  they  dazzling  show ; 
Now  sink  to  shade,  now  furnace-bright  they  glow. 

High  on  the  waving  top  of  some  tall  tree. 

Sweet  sings  the  thrush  to  morning  and  to  me ; 

While  round  its  skirts,  'midst  pendent  boughs  of  green, 

The  orange  Baltimore  is  busy  seen. 

Prone  from  the  points  his  netted  nest  is  hung. 

With  hempen  cordage  curiously  strung; 

Here  his  young  nestlings  safe  from  danger  lie. 

Their  craving  wants  the  teeming  boughs  supply. 

Gay  chants  their  guardian,  as  for  food  he  goes. 

And  waving  breezes  rock  them  to  repose. 

The  white-wing'd  woodpecker  with  crimson  crest, 

Who  digs  from  solid  trunks  his  curious  nest. 

Sees  the  long  black  snake  stealing  to  his  brood. 

And,  screaming,  stains  the  branches  with  its  blood. 

Here  o'er  the  woods  the  tyrant  king-bird  sails. 
Spreads  his  long  wings,  and  every  foe  assails. 
Snaps  the  returning  bee  with  all  her  sweets. 
Pursues  the  crow,  the  diving  hawk  defeats. 
Darts  on  the  eagle  downwards  from  afar, 
And  'midst  the  clouds  prolongs  the  whirling  war. 


POEMS  163 

Deep  in  the  thickest  shade,  with  cadence  sweet, 
Soft  as  the  tones  that  heaven-bound  pilgrims  greet. 
Sings  the  wood-robin  close  retir'd  from  sight. 
And  swells  his  solo  'mid  the  shades  of  night. 
Here  sports  the  mocking-bird  with  matchless  strain. 
Returning  back  each  warbler's  notes  again : 
Now  chants  a  robin,  now  o'er  all  the  throng, 
Pours  out  in  strains  sublime  the  thrush's  song. 
Barks  like  the  squirrel,  like  the  cat-bird  squalls, 
Now   "Whip-poor-will,"   and   now    "Bob   White"   he 

calls. 
The  lonely  red-bird  too  adorns  the  scene. 
In  brightest  scarlet  through  the  foliage  green, 
With  many  a  warbler  more,  a  vocal  throng. 
That  shelter'd  here  their  joyous  notes  prolong. 
From  the  first  dawn  of  dewy  morning  grey, 
In  sweet  confusion  till  the  close  of  day. 
Ev'n  when  still  night  descends  serene  and  cool. 
Ten  thousand  pipes  awake  from  yonder  pool ; 
Owls,  crickets,  tree-frogs,  katydids  resound. 
And  flashing  fire-flies  sparkle  all  around. 
Such  boundless  plenty,  such  abundant  stores 
The  rosy  hand  of  nature  round  us  pours. 
That  every  living  tribe  their  powers  employ, 
From  morn  to  eve,  to  testify  their  joy. 
And  pour  from  meadow,  field,  and  boughs  above, 
One  general  song  of  gratitude  and  love. 
Even  now,  emerging  from  their  prisons  deep, 
Wak'd  from  their  seventeen  years  of  tedious  sleep, 
In  countless  millions  to  our  wondering  eyes 
The  long-remembered  locusts  glad  arise, 
Burst  their  enclosing  shells,  at  Nature's  call. 
And  join  in  praise  to  the  great  God  of  aK. 


164  AI^EIXANDER  WILSON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

Come  then,  dear  sir,  the  noisy  town  forsake, 

With  me  awhile  these  rural  joys  partake ; 

Come,   leave   your  books,   your   pens,   your   studious 

cares, 
Come,  see  the  bliss  that  God  for  man  prepares. 
My  shelt'ring  bow'rs,  with  honeysuckles  white. 
My  fishy  pools,  my  cataracts  invite ; 
My  vines  for  you  their  clusters  thick  suspend, 
My  juicy  peaches  swell  but  for  my  friend; 
For  him  who  joins,  with  elegance  and  art. 
The  brightest  talents  to  the  warmest  heart. 
Here  as  with  me  at  morn  you  range  the  wood. 
Or  headlong  plunge  amid  the  crystal  flood. 
More  vig'rous  life  your  firmer  nerves  shall  brace, 
A  ruddier  glow  shall  wanton  o'er  your  face, 
A  livelier  glance  re-animate  your  eye. 
Each  anxious  thought,  each  fretting  care  shall  fly. 
For  here,  through  every  field  and  rustling  grove. 
Sweet  Peace  and  rosy  Health  for  ever  rove. 

Come,  then,  O  come !   your  burning  streets  forego. 

Your  lanes  and  wharves,  where  winds  infectious  blow, 

Where  sweeps  and  oystermen  eternal  growl. 

Carts,  crowds,  and  coaches  harrow  up  the  soul. 

For  deep,  majestic  woods,  and  op'ning  glades, 

And  shining  pools,  and  awe-inspiring  shades ; 

Where  fragrant  shrubs  perfume  the  air  around, 

And  bending  orchards  kiss  the  flow'ry  ground. 

And  luscious  berries  spread  a  feast  for  Jove, 

And  golden  cherries  stud  the  boughs  above; 

Amid  these  various  sweets  thy  rustic  friend 

Shall  to  each  woodland  haunt  thy  steps  attend. 

His  solitary  walks,  his  noontide  bowers, 

The  old  associates  of  his  lonely  hours; 

While  Friendship's  converse,  gen'rous  and  sincere. 

Exchanging  every  joy  and  every  tear. 

Shall  warm  each  heart  with  such  an  ardent  glow. 

As  wealth's  whole  pageantry  could  ne'er  bestow. 


POEMS  165 

Perhaps  (for  who  can  nature's  ties  forget?) 

As  underneath  the  flowery  shade  we  sit, 

In  this  rich  western  world  remotely  plac'd, 

Our  thoughts  may  roam  beyond  the  wat'ry  waste ; 

And  see,  with  sadden'd  hearts,  in  memory's  eye, 

Those  native  shores,  where  dear-lov'd  kindred  sigh : 

Where  War  and  ghastly  Want  in  horror  reign, 

And  dying  babes  to  fainting  sires  complain. 

While  we,  alas !   these  mournful  scenes  retrace. 

In  climes  of  plenty,  liberty,  and  peace. 

Our  tears  shall  flow,  our  ardent  pray'rs  arise. 

That  Heaven  would  wipe  all  sorrow  from  their  eyes. 

Thus,  in  celestial  climes,  the  heavenly  train, 

Escap'd  from  earth's  dark  ills,  and  all  its  pain 

Sigh  o'er  the  scenes  of  suffering  man  below. 

And  drop  a  tear  in  tribute  to  our  woe. 


THE  SOLITARY  TUTOR. 

Who'er  across  the  Schuylkill's  winding  tide, 
Beyond  Gray's  Ferry  half  a  mile,  has  been, 
Down  in  a  bridge-built  hollow  must  have  spy'd 
A  neat  stone  school-house  on  a  sloping  green : 
There  tufted  cedars  scatter'd  round  are  seen, 
And  stripling  poplars  planted  in  a  row ; 
Some  old  gray  white-oaks  overhang  the  scene, 
Pleas'd  to  look  upon  the  youths  below, 
Whose  noisy  noontide  sports  no  care  or  sorrow  know. 

On  this  hand  rise  the  woods  in  deep'ning  shade. 
Resounding  with  the  songs  of  warblers  sweet, 
And  there  a  waving  sign-board  hangs  display'd 
From  mansion  fair,  the  thirsty  soul's  retreat; 
There  way-worn  pilgrims  rest  their  weary  feet. 
When  noontide  heats  or  evening  shades  prevail : 
The  widow's  fare,  still  plentiful  and  neat. 
Can  nicest  guest  deliciously  regale. 
And  make  his  heart  rejoice  the  sorrel  horse  to  hail. 

Adjoining  this,  old  Vulcan's  shop  is  seen. 
Where  winds,  and  fires,  and  thumping  hammers  roar, 
White-wash'd  without,  but  black  enough  within  *  *  * 
Emblem  of  modern  patriots  many  a  score. 
The  restive  steed  impatient  at  the  door. 
Starts  at  this  thundering  voice  and  brawny  arm, 
While  yellow  Jem  with  horse-tail  fans  him  o'er. 
Driving  aloof  the  ever  buzzing  swarm, 
Whose  shrill  blood-sucking  pipes  his  restless  fears 
alarm. 


POEMS  167 

An  ever-varying  scene  the  road  displays, 
With  horsemen,  thundering  stage,  and  stately  team. 
Now  burning  with  the  sun's  resplendent  rays. 
Now  lost  in  clouds  of  dust  the  travellers  seen, 
And  now  a  lengthen'd  pond  or  miry  stream. 
Deep  sink  the  wheels,  and  slow  they  drag  along. 
Journeying  to  town,  with  butter,  apples,  cream. 
Fowls,  eggs,  and  fruit,  in  many  a  motley  throng, 
Coop'd  in  their  little  carts  their  various  truck  among. 

And  yonder,  nestled  in  enclust'ring  trees. 
Where  many  a  rose-bush  round  the  green  yard  glows, 
Wall'd  from  the  road,  with  seats  for  shade  and  ease, 
A  yellow-fronted  cottage  sweetly  shows : 
The  towering  poplars  rise  in  spiry  rows. 
And  green  catalpas,  white  with  branchy  flowers; 
Her  matron  arms  a  weeping  willow  throws 
Wide  o'er  the  dark  green  grass,  and  pensive  lours, 
Midst  plum-trees,  pillar'd  hops,  and  honey-suckle  bow- 
ers. 

Here  dwells  the  guardian  of  these  younglings  gay, 
A  strange  recluse  and  solitary  wight, 
In  Britain's  isle,  on  Scottish  mountains  gray. 
His  infant  eyes  first  open'd  to  the  light. 
His  parents  saw  with  partial  fond  delight 
Unfolding  genius  crown  their  fostering  care. 
And  talk'd  with  tears  of  that  enrapturing  sight. 
When,  clad  in  sable  gown,  with  solemn  air. 
The  walls  of  God's  own  house  should  echo  back  his 
pray'r. 

Dear  smiling  Hope !  to  thy  enchanting  hand, 
What  cheering  joys,  what  ecstasies  we  owe! 
Touch'd  by  the  magic  of  thy  fairy  wand, 
Before  us  spread,  what  heavenly  prospects  glow ! 


1 68         AI^EXANDDR  WII^SON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

Thro'  Life's  rough  thorny  wild  we  lab'ring  go, 

And  tho'  a  thousand  disappointments  grieve, 

Ev'n  from  the  grave's  dark  verge  we  forward  throw 

Our  straining,  wishful  eyes  on  those  we  leave, 

And  with  their  future  fame  our  sinking  hearts  relieve. 

But  soon,  too  soon,  these  fond  illusions  fled ! 
In  vain  they  pointed  out  that  pious  height; 
By  Nature's  strong  resistless  impulse  led, 
These  dull  dry  doctrines  ever  would  he  slight. 
Wild  Fancy  form'd  him  for  fantastic  flight ; 
He  lov'd  the  steep's  high  summit  to  explore. 
To  watch  the  splendor  of  the  orient  bright. 
The  dark  deep  forest,  and  the  sea-beat  shore, 
Where  thro'  resounding  rocks  the  liquid  mountains 
roar. 

When   gath'ring  clouds   the   vaults   of  Heav'n   o'er- 

spread. 
And  op'ning  streams  of  livid  lightning  flew. 
From  some  o'erhanging  cliff  the  uproar  dread, 
Transfix'd  rapt'rous  wonder,  he  would  view. 
When  the  red  torrent  big  and  bigger  grew. 
Or  deep'ning  snows  for  days  obscur'd  the  air, 
Still  with  the  storm  his  transports  would  renew. 
Roar,  pour  away !  was  still  his  eager  pray'r, 
While  shiv'ring  swains  around  were  sinking  in  de- 
spair. 

That  worldly  gift  which  misers  merit  call, 

But  wise  men  cunning  and  the  art  of  vrade. 

That  scheming  foresight  how  to  scrape  up  all. 

How  pence  may  groats,  and  shillings  pounds  be  made. 

As  little  knew  he  as  the  moorland  maid 

Who  ne'er  beheld  a  cottage  but  her  own : 


POEMS  169 

Sour  Parsimony's  words  he  seldom  weigh'd, 
His  heart's  warm  impulse  was  the  guide  alone, 
When  suffering  friendship  sigh'd,  or  weeping  wretch 
did  moan. 

Dear,  dear  to  him  Affection's  ardent  glow, 
Alas !    from  all  he  lov'd  for  ever  torn. 
E'en  now,  as  Memory's  sad  reflections  flow, 
Deep  grief  o'erwhelms  him  and  he  weeps  forlorn ; 
By  hopeless  thought,  by  wasting  sorrow  worn, 
Around  on  Nature's  scenes  he  turns  his  eye, 
Charm'd  with  her  peaceful  eve,  her  fragrant  morn, 
Her  green  magnificence,  her  gloomiest  sky, 
That  fill  th'  exulting  soul  with  admiration  high. 

One  charming  nymph  with  transport  he  adores. 
Fair  Science,  crown'd  with  many  a  figur'd  sign; 
Her  smiles,  her  sweet  society  implores, 
And  mixes  jocund  with  th'  encircling  nine; 
While  Mathematics  solves  his  dark  design. 
Sweet  Music  soothes  him  with  her  syren  strains. 
Seraphic  Poetry  with  warmth  divine, 
Exalts  him  far  above  celestial  plains. 
And  Painting's  fairy  hand  his  mimic  pencil  trains. 

Adown  each  side  of  his  sequester'd  cot, 

Two  bubbling  streamlets  wind  their  rocky  way, 

And  mingling  as  they  leave  this  rural  spot, 

Down  thro'  a  woody  vale  meandering  stray. 

Round  many  a  moss-grown  rock  they  dimpling  play. 

Where  laurel  thickets  clothe  the  steeps  around, 

And  oaks  thick,  towering  quite  shut  out  the  day. 

And  spread  a  venerable  gloom  profound, 

Made  still  more  sweetly  solemn  by  the  riv'let's  sound. 


170         ALEXANDER  WII^ON  :    POET-NATURAUST 

Where    down    smooth    ghstening    rocks    it    rambling 

pours, 
Till  in  a  pool  its  silent  waters  sleep, 
A  dark  brown  cliff  o'ertopped  with  fern  and  flowers, 
Hangs  grimly  frowning  o'er  the  glassy  deep ; 
Above  thro'  ev'ry  chink  the  woodbines  creep. 
And  smooth  bark  beeches  spread  their  anns  around. 
Whose  roots  cling  twisted  round  the  rocky  steep: 
A  more  sequester 'd  scene  is  no  where  found. 
For  contemplation  deep  and  silent  thought  profound. 

Here  many  a  tour  the  lonely  tutor  takes, 
Long  known  to  Solitude,  his  partner  dear. 
For  rustling  woods  his  empty  school  forsakes. 
At  morn,  still  noon,  and  silent  evening  clear. 
Wild  Nature's  scenes  amuse  his  wand'rings  here; 
The  old  gray  rocks  that  overhang  the  stream. 
The  nodding  flow'rs  that  on  their  peaks  appear. 
Plants,  birds,  and  insects  are  a  feast  to  him, 
Howe'er  obscure,  deform'd,  minute,  or  huge  they  seem. 

Sweet  rural  scenes !   unknown  to  poet's  song. 
Where  Nature's  charm  in  rich  profusion  lie. 
Birds,  fruits,  and  flowers,  an  ever  pleasing  throng, 
Deny'd  to  Britain's  bleak  and  northern  sky. 
Here  Freedom  smiles  serene  with  dauntless  eye, 
And  leads  the  exil'd  stranger  thro'  her  groves. 
Assists  to  sweep  the  forest  from  on  high. 
And  gives  to  man  the  fruitful  field  he  loves, 
Where  proud  imperious  lord  or  tyrant  never  roves. 

In  these  green  solitudes  one  fav'rite  spot 
Still  draws  his  slow  meanderings  that  way, 
A  mossy  cliff  beside  a  little  grot. 
Where  two  clear  springs  burst  out  upon  the  day. 
There  overhead  the  beechen  branches  play. 


POEMS  171 

And  from  the  rock  the  clustered  columbine, 
While  deep  below  the  brook  is  seen  to  stray, 
O'erhung  with  alders,  briar,  and  mantling  vine. 
While  on  th'  adjacent  banks  the  glossy  laurels  shine. 

Here  Milton's  heavenly  themes  delight  his  soul. 

Or  Goldsmith's  simple  heart-bewitching  lays; 

Now  drives  with  Cook  around  the  frozen  pole, 

Or  follows  Bruce  with  marvel  and  amaze: 

Perhaps  Rome's  splendour  sadly  he  surveys, 

Or  Britain's  scenes  of  cruelty  and  kings ; 

Thro'  Georgia's  groves  with  gentle  Bartram  strays. 

Or  mounts  with  Newton  on  archangels'  wings, 

With  manly  Smollet  laughs,  with  jovial  Dibdin  sings. 

The  air  serene,  and  breathing  odours  sweet, 
The  sound  of  falling  streams,  and  humming  bees, 
Wild  choirs  of  songsters  round  his  rural  seat. 
To  souls  like  his  have  ev'ry  pow'r  to  please. 
The  shades  of  night  with  rising  sigh  he  sees 
Obscure  the  stream  and  leafy  scenes  around, 
And  homeward  wending  thro'  the  moon-lit  trees. 
The  owl  salutes  him  with  her  trem'lous  sound, 
And  many  a  flutt'ring  bat  pursues  its  mazy  round. 

Thus  peaceful  pass  his  lonely  hours  away; 
Thus,  in  retirement  from  his  school  affairs, 
He  tastes  a  bliss  unknown  to  worldings  gay, 
A  soothing  antidote  for  all  his  cares. 
Adoring  Nature's  God,  he  joyous  shares 
With  happy  millions  Freedom's  fairest  scene, 
His  ev'ning  hymn  some  plaintive  Scottish  airs, 
Breath'd  from  the  flute  or  melting  violin, 
With  life-inspiring  reels  and  wanton  jigs  between. 


WATTY  AND  MEG 

A  TALE 
"We  dream  in  courtship,  but  in  wedlock  wake." — Pope. 

Keen  the  frosty  winds  were  blawing, 

Deep  the  snaw  had  wreath'd  the  ploughs; 

Watty,  weary'd  a'  day  sawing, 
Daunert^  down  to  Mungo  Blue's. 

Dryster  Jock  was  sitting  cracky ,2 

Wi'  Pate  Tamson  o'  the  Hill; 
"Come  awa',"  quo'  Johnny,  "Watty ! 

Haith  we'se  hae  anither  gill." 

Watty,  glad  to  see  Jock  Jabos, 

And  sae  mony  neibours  roun', 
Kicket  frae  his  shoon  the  snawbas, 

Syne  ayont^  the  fire  sat  down. 

Owre  a  broad  wi'  bannocks  heapet, 
Cheese,  and  stoups,  and  glasses  stood; 

Some  were  roaring,  ithers  sleepit, 
Ithers  quietly  chewt  their  cude.* 

Jock  was  selling  Pate  some  tallow, 

A'  th2  rest  a  racket  hel', 
A'  but  Watty,  wha,  poor  fallow ! 

Sat  and  smoket  by  himsel'. 

Mungo  fill'd  him  up  a  toothfu', 

Drank  his  health  and  Meg's  in  ane; 
Watty,  puffing  out  a  mouthfu', 

Pledged  him  wi'  a  dreary  grane. 

1  Strolled.  ^  "Jokey."         ^  Then  before.  *  Chewed  their  cud. 


POEMS  173 

"What's  the  matter,  Watty,  wi'  you? 

Trouth  your  chafts^  are  fa'ing  in ! 
Something's  wrang — I'm  vex'd  to  see  you — 

Gudesake !  but  ye're  desp'rate  thin !" 

"Ay,"  quo'  Watty,  "things  are  alter'd, 

But  it's  past  redemption  now; 
Lord !   I  wish  I  had  been  halter'd 

When  I  marry 'd  Maggy  Howe! 

"I've  been  poor,  and  vex'd,  and  raggy, 
Try'd  wi'  troubles  no  that  sma' ; 

Them  I  bore — but  marrying  Maggy- 
Laid  the  cap-stane  o'  them  a'. 

"Night  and  day  she's  ever  yelping, 
With  the  weans®  she  ne'er  can  gree; 

When  she's  tired  with  perfect  skelping,'^ 
Then  she  flees  like  fire  on  me. 

"See  ye,  Mungo!   when  she'll  clash  on^ 

With  her  everlasting  clack,® 
Whiles  I've  had  my  neive,^°  in  passion. 

Lifted  up  to  break  her  back." 

"O,  for  Gudesake,  keep  frae  cufYets !" 

Mungo  shook  his  head  and  said: 
"Weel  I  ken  what  sort  of  life  it's; 

Ken  ye,  Watty,  how  I  did? — 

"After  Bess  and  I  were  kippled, 

Soon  she  grew  like  ony  bear; 
Bark  my  shins,  and,  when  I  tippled, 

Harl't  out  my  very  hair ! 

=  Cheeks.  «  Children.  '  Whipping.  »  Chatter. 

9  Din.  '"  Clenched  fist. 


174      ai,e;xander  wiIvSon  :  poet-naturaust 

"For  a  wee  I  quietly  knuckled, 

But  when  naething  would  prevail, 

Up  my  claes  and  cash  I  buckled, 
Bess,  for  ever  fare-ye-weel — 

"Then  her  din  grew  less  and  less  aye, 
Haith  I  gart  her  change  her  tune; 

Now  a  better  wife  than  Bessy 
Never  stept  in  leather  shoon. 

"Try  this,  Watty — When  ye  see  her 

Raging  like  a  roaring  flood, 
Swear  that  moment  that  ye'll  lea'  her; 

That's  the  way  to  keep  her  good." 

Laughing,  sangs,  and  lasses'  skirls, ^^ 

Echo'd  now  out-thro'  the  roof; 
"Done !"  quo'  Pate,  and  syne  his  erls^^ 

Nail'd  the  Dryster's  wauked  loof.^^ 

In  the  thrang  of  stories  telling, 

Shaking  hauns,  and  ither  cheer ; 
Swith !    a  chap  comes  on  the  hallan,^* 

"Mungo,  is  our  Watty  here  ?" 

Maggy's  well  kent  tongue  and  hurry, 

Darted  thro'  him  like  a  knife ; 
Up  the  door  flew — like  a  Fury 

In  came  Watty's  scawling  wife. 

"Nasty,  gude-for-naething  being! 

O  ye  snuffy,  drucken  sow ! 
Bringing  wife  and  weans  to  ruin. 

Drinking  here  wi'  sic  a  crew ! 

"  Peals  of  laughter.  ^'^  Pledge  money.  "  Hardened  palm. 

"  Outside-door. 


POEMS  175 

"Devil,  nor  your  legs  were  broken ! 

Sic  a  life  nae  flesh  endures; 
Toiling  like  a  slave  to  sloken 

You,  you  dyvor,^^  and  your  'hores! 

"Rise,  ye  drunken  beast  o'  Bethel ! 

Drink's  your  night  and  day's  desire; 
Rise,  this  precious  hour!   or  faith,  I'll 

Fling  your  whiskey  i'  the  fire !" 

Watty  heard  her  tongue  unhallow'd, 

Pay'd  his  groat  wi'  little  din ; 
Left  the  house,  while  Maggy  fallow'd, 

Flytin'^''  a'  the  road  behin'. 

Fowk  frae  every  door  came  lamping  ;^'^ 

Maggy  curst  them  ane  and  a' ; 
Clappet  wi'  her  hands,  and  stamping, 

Lost  her  bauchles^^  i'  the  sna'. 

Hame,  at  length  she  turn'd  the  gavel, 

Wi'  a  face  as  white's  a  clout  •,'^^ 
Raging  like  a  very  devil. 

Kicking  stools  and  chairs  about. 

"Ye'll  sit  wi'  your  limmers  round  you ! 

Hang  you,  sir?  I'll  be  your  death! 
Little  hauds^°  my  hands,  confound  you, 

But  I  cleave  you  to  the  teeth !" 

Watty,  wha'  midst  this  oration, 

Ey'd  her  whiles,  but  durstna  speak. 
Sat  like  patient  Resignation, 

Trem'ling  by  the  ingle  cheek. ^^ 

1°  Drunkard.  "  Scolding.  "  Striding.  ^^  Slippers. 

19  Cloth.  ^  Holds.  21  Fireside. 


176      ai.exande;r  wiivSON :  poet-naturaust 

Sad  his  wee  drap  brose  he  sippet, 
Maggy's  tongue  gaed  like  a  bell; 

Quietly  to  his  bed  he  slippet, 
Sighing  aften  to  himsel' : 

"Nane  are  free  frae  some  vexation, 

Ilk  ane  has  his  ills  to  dree  f^ 
But  thro'  a'  the  hale  creation 

Is  a  mortal  vexed  like  me !" 

A'  night  lang  he  rowt  and  gaunted. 

Sleep  or  rest  he  cou'dna  tak ; 
Maggy,  aft  wi'  horror  haunted, 

Mum'ling,  started  at  his  back. 

Soon  as  e'er  the  morning  peepit, 
Up  raise  Watty,  waefu'  chiel;^^ 

Kist  his  weanies,  while  they  sleepit, 
Wauken'd  Meg,  and  sought  fareweel. 

"Farewell,  Meg! — and,  O,  may  Heaven 
Keep  you  aye  within  His  care ; 

Watty's  heart  ye've  lang  been  grievin', 
Now  he'll  never  fash^*  you  mair. 

"Happy  cou'd  I  been  beside  you, 
Happy,  baith  at  morn  and  e'en ; 

A'  the  ills  that  e'er  betide  you, 
Watty  aye  turn'd  out  your  frien' ; 

"But  ye  ever  like  to  see  me 
Vext  and  sighing,  late  and  air ; 

Farewell,  Meg!  I've  sworn  to  lea'  thee. 
So  thou'll  never  see  me  mair." 

»  Endure.  ^  Fellow.  ?*  Disturb. 


POEMS  J  77 

Meg,  a'  sabbin  sae  to  lose  him, 

Sic  a  change  had  never  wist ; 
Held  his  hand  close  to  her  bosom, 

While  her  heart  was  like  to  burst. 

"O,  my  Watty,  will  ye  lea'  me, 

Frien'less,  helpless,  to  despair? 
O  !   for  this  ae  time  forgi'e  me  : 

Never  will  I  vex  ye  mair." 

"Ay !  ye've  aft  said  that,  and  broken 

A'  your  vows  ten  times  a  week ; 
No,  no,  Meg!  See,  there's  a  token 

Glittering  on  my  bonnet  cheek. 

"Owre  the  seas  I  march  this  morning, 

Listed,  tested,  sworn  and  a' ; 
Forced  by  your  confounded  giming — 

Farewell,  Meg !   for  I'm  awa'." 

Then  poor  Magg}''s  tears  and  clamour 

Gush  afresh  and  louder  grew ; 
While  the  weans,  wi'  mournfu'  yaumour,-^ 

Round  their  sabbing  mother  flew. 

"Thro'  the  yirth-*'  I'll  waunner  wi'  you — 

Stay,  O  Watty !  stay  at  hame ; 
Here  upo'  my  knees  I'll  gi'e  you 

Ony  vow  ye  like  to  name ; 

"See  your  poor  young  lamies  pleadin', 

Will  ye  gang  and  break  our  heart? 
No  a  house  to  put  our  head  in  ! 

No  a  friend  to  take  our  part !" 

^  uproar.  ^  Earth. 


178         ALEXANDER  WILSON  :     POET-NATURAUST 

Ilka  word  came  like  a  bullet, 
Watty's  heart  begoud  to  shake ; 

On  a  kist^"  he  laid  his  wallet, 

Dig-hted--  baith  his  een  and  spake, — 

"If  ance  niair  I  cou'd,  by  writing, 

Lea'  the  sogers,  and  stay  still ; 
Wad  you  swear  to  drop  your  flyting?" 

"Yes,  O  Watty !   yes,  I  will." 

"Then,"  quo  Watty,  "mind,  be  honest; 

Aye  to  keep  your  temper  strive; 
Gin  you  break  this  dreadfu'  promise. 

Never  mair  expect  to  thrive ; 

"Marget  Howe  !  this  hour  ye  solemn 
Swear  by  everything  that's  gude. 

Ne'er  again  your  spouse  to  scal'^^  him. 
While  life  warms  your  heart  and  blood ; 

"That  you'll  ne'er  in  Mungo's  seek  me; 

Ne'er  put  drucken  to  my  name : 
Never  out  at  e'ening  steek^°  me; 

Never  gloom  when  I  come  hame ; 

"That  ye'll  ne'er  like  Bessy  Miller, 
Kick  my  shins,  or  rug^^  my  hair; 

Lastly,  I'm  to  keep  the  siller  ;^^ 
This  upon  your  saul  you  swear?" 

"O-h!"  quo'  Meg;   "Awell,"  quo'  Watty, 
Farewell !  faith,  I'll  try  the  seas ;" 

"O  stand  still,"  quo'  Meg,  and  grat^^  aye; 
"Ony,  ony  way  ye  please." 

^  Chest.  28  Wiped.  =»  Scold.  ">  Lock. 

"  Pull.  32  Silver.  ^  Cried. 


POEMS  179 


Maggy  syne,^*  because  he  prest  her, 
Swore  to  a'  thing  o'er  again ; 

Watty  lap,^^  and  danc'd,  and  kist  her; 
Wow !  but  he  was  won'rous  fain. 

Down  he  threw  his  staff,  victorious; 

Aff  gaed  bonnet,  claes,  and  shoon; 
Syne  below  the  blankets,  glorious. 

Held  anither  Hinnymoon ! 

^  Then.  «^  I,eaped. 


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